


A Bloody Nuisance

by illgetmyspade



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgetmyspade/pseuds/illgetmyspade
Summary: Other than the growing affection between Jonathan Reid and Geoffrey McCullum, I have little idea of where this is going. Suggestions and comments are definitely welcome. English isn't my first language, so let me know if there's anything that feels off. Oh and it's also my first time posting here, so please bear with me.I should probably add that "my" Jonathan Reid didn't kill any citizens, saved Sean Hampton, spared Geoffrey McCullum, let Aloysius Dawson die (considering his demented ideas, who'd want to give that man Ekon powers anyway) and turned Edgar Swansea (who also has some pretty questionable ideas when it comes to science but at least wants to experiment on himself only). I changed the game's ending, apparently, deciding that Jonathan and Elisabeth are not together and that they don't go off to America.Chapters will be edited as I go along with minor corrections, mostly typos and the like.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Other than the growing affection between Jonathan Reid and Geoffrey McCullum, I have little idea of where this is going. Suggestions and comments are definitely welcome. English isn't my first language, so let me know if there's anything that feels off. Oh and it's also my first time posting here, so please bear with me.  
> I should probably add that "my" Jonathan Reid didn't kill any citizens, saved Sean Hampton, spared Geoffrey McCullum, let Aloysius Dawson die (considering his demented ideas, who'd want to give that man Ekon powers anyway) and turned Edgar Swansea (who also has some pretty questionable ideas when it comes to science but at least wants to experiment on himself only). I changed the game's ending, apparently, deciding that Jonathan and Elisabeth are not together and that they don't go off to America.  
> Chapters will be edited as I go along with minor corrections, mostly typos and the like.

When Jonathan wakes up, he feels disoriented. For a second, he doesn’t remember where he is. Then he takes in the familiar shapes of his room in Pembroke hospital. The events that took place during the previous few nights now seem like very distant memories; killing Harriet Jones, defeating the Red Queen, tracking down Lady Ashbury in Scotland – it all feels strangely unreal, as if it had all just been a hazy dream. Jonathan turns to lie on his side, too mixed up in his own thoughts to find the strength to get up, even though the sun has long set and he’s got work to do.

He has finally found his maker, and in a way, he supposes, avenged Mary’s death. At any rate he kept the promise he’d given her on the cemetery. But the death of his beloved sister weighs heavily on his mind and heart, more heavily than anything else. The quiet murmur of doctors and patients below gives him a chance to linger on these memories, painful though they are. He forces himself to remember how he drove the broken cross through Mary’s heart, and even though in the end she had pleaded with him to end her life, he still feels as if he betrayed her when he fulfilled her last wish. Couldn’t he have saved her? What could he have said to make her change her mind and see her new existence not as a curse but… well, as what? It’s certainly not a blessing, but Jonathan has come to prefer to see it as one of those obstacles that life – and apparently, death, too – sometimes throw at you. He sighs heavily. No matter what he tells himself or does, he’ll never get Mary’s blood off his hands and he’ll never manage to free himself of this guilt. Maybe it’s why he chose to return to London instead of going to America, as Lady Ashbury had suggested they should. Maybe a new start really would have been a viable option, but deep within Jonathan knows that it would have been nothing but an escape, and, truth be told, he doesn’t think there can be any escape from what he’s done and what he’s become.

With a painful groan he finally pushes himself out of the bed. What’s the use of waiting for the inevitable when one has all the time in the world, and more? He knows he should go check on the patients below but can’t quite force himself to do so. He gets dressed more slowly than usual and when he washes his face, he studies his reflection for a long while. Even though his face is of a deathly pallor, his skin isn’t exactly cold, just cool, and, thankfully, doesn’t feel like dead flesh. Since his turning, his eyes have taken an eerie shade of grey with specks of their former blue colour. Even he finds them a tad scary, but they are certainly preferable to the sickly, lurid red he’s seen with most other Ekons. For a fleeting moment he wonders how much human blood it takes to change their colour and whether that effect is reversible. He bares his teeth at the thought, giving himself a sneer. If he ever repeated that mistake, he’d have to find someone to drive a stake through his heart. ‘I’m sure Geoffrey McCullum would be more than pleased to oblige,’ he thinks, turning away from his reflection.

When he leaves his room it’s not to go downstairs and make his rounds. Instead he jumps off the balcony, sneaking into the night towards Stonebridge cemetery. Jonathan doesn’t feel the cold anymore – one of the advantages of his new existence – but it still seems to him like it’s suddenly grown colder. A light fog has crept in from the river and lingers in the streets like a friendly ghost. There are a few Priwen patrols roaming the streets and Skals creeping in the shadows, but tonight Jonathan prefers to avoid them as much as he can. It’s not them that he fears, though, it’s the sadness he knows will inevitably turn into anger and rage if he engages them. And tonight, he doesn’t want to ease the pain.

When he arrives at the cemetery’s iron gate, he hesitates for a short moment, hands outstretched, then he opens the gate and enters. It is unusually quiet, and he can’t sense anybody. That, at least, is a relief. Quietly he makes his way to Mary’s grave, past the memorial, the place they fought, and sits down on one of the stone benches. His heart is beating painfully, but his mind is empty. There’s nothing he could say to Mary. It’s not exactly that he no longer believes in talking to the dead, but he has already said all there was left to say that horrible night. She had forgiven him, and even though he knows she hadn’t been lying, he feels that what he did to his sister really cannot be forgiven, ever. Burying his face in his hands, he tries to control himself but finally lets the tears flow freely, knowing there isn’t anyone around to see and watch him cry.

Jonathan has no idea how long he’s been sitting there, crying, drying his face, feeling tears well up again, but when he looks up he can see dawn’s timid first shade of green in the east. He wipes a hand across his face once more, then gets up to leave. He wonders if the tears have made him feel better, but he isn’t sure. The pain is as bad as before, but the knot in his throat is gone and he can breathe a bit more freely.

Now that day is about to break, the streets are empty but for a few Priwen soldiers making their way back to headquarters. Jonathan easily manages to evade them, the more so as they are quite relaxed and pay little attention to looking for leeches, knowing that by now most bloodsuckers have crept back to the shadows to hide for the day.

Jonathan enters the hospital the same way he left. He doesn’t want to see, let alone speak to anybody now. He is still so caught up in his thoughts that when he realises he’s not alone, it’s already too late.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having the leader of the Priwen Guard break into my lair?” he asks, his voice sounding more annoyed than he intended.

“You tell me, leech!” Geoffrey McCullum is fully armed, and although he doesn’t point any of his weapons directly at Jonathan, he has taken an aggressive stance, making sure to keep his distance to the vampire. “You’ve been gone for quite a bit, no one knew a bloody thing. Doin’ anything leechy? Kill anyone I know?” he sneers.

“I was in Scotland,” Jonathan simply replies. He suddenly feels very exhausted. He knows that given the way he spent the night he won’t be able to take too much from the hunter now.

“Scotland?!” For a second, Geoffrey doesn’t know what to say. “Blood tastier up there, yeh?” The Ekon flinches at his angry words. The success pleases him – and makes him feel guilty. He has never been good at words, but the closer things get to him, the nastier he usually becomes. And Jonathan Reid seems to be a master of luring out his unpleasant side, particularly right now. Clearly, something is bothering him. His eyes have a red haze around the edges, not the kind leeches get when sucking blood, more like he’s been…

“It’s a long story,” Jonathan says, stopping the hunter’s confusing train of thoughts. The vampire feels the rays of an early morning sun licking at the hospital walls, it makes him tired and edgy. “I found the source of the infection and… I took care of it.”

“You took care of it, leech? Well that’s just grand, innit? How did that come about?” Geoffrey really is curious, he even believes Reid, but that only seems to add to his vexations about this whole encounter with the vampire. Why can’t he just show the genuine interest he feels? Something is bothering the man, and Geoffrey wishes he could just let it go. But that would be a defeat, wouldn’t it?

“Please, I’m really not quite myself tonight, I…”

“Not quite yourself tonight, eh?” Geoffrey interrupts him snidely. “Then pray tell, what is your true self, _Doctor_?” Glaring at him, he watches as Jonathan clenches his fists, features getting tense, and senses the man’s anger and growing despair. He won’t take much more of his shit, so perhaps he had better stop provoking him. The Ekon looks intimidating, his predator nature lurking dangerously close under the surface, and for a second the hunter wonders why he doesn’t just make use of his powers. He knows he isn’t easy game, but still. The degree of self-control Reid shows is… astounding. Finally, he lets it go. For the moment.

“McCullum, please…,“ Jonathan hisses, but the hunter interrupts him again, surprisingly giving in.

“All right, Reid. I’ll come back tomorrow – tonight, I mean. If you’re not otherwise engaged, that is. You’ll tell me what you been up to in Scotland and exactly how you ended the epidemic. I am really curious,” he adds after a short moment, for once managing to make it sound as honest as he means it, though that is about as much civility as he can muster for a leech.

“I am not otherwise engaged,” Jonathan replies, relaxing slightly. McCullum is a nuisance, and a very rude one at that, but at least he sometimes seems to realise when enough is enough. “Please close the door on your way out. Unless you want the sun to take care of me.”

“Fuck no, leech!” the hunter growls. “I sure as hell won’t leave that joy to the sun!” The hurtful words are out before Geoffrey can stop himself being an arsehole again. Now he can’t take them back and, what’s worse, he can’t even show the vampire he’s sorry for having said them.

Jonathan shakes his head, exasperated by the other man’s toxic attitude. Without a word, he turns around and walks over to where his bed is. He takes off his shirt while walking, too tired to mind such ungentlemanly behaviour. And Geoffrey is truly surprised by it. Dr Reid, who probably never even _thinks_ a bad word, undressing right in front of him. It’s not even meant to show him how little he cares, the hunter realises. Reid is simply too worn out to think about it. As Geoffrey turns around to leave through the door leading into the building – he doesn’t want to risk any sunlight getting into the room – he can’t help but stare at Jonathan’s pale back. It’s surprisingly muscular, he decides, considering the man’s almost delicate features. Unconsciously, Geoffrey wonders what it would feel like to touch the Ekon’s body, but before the thought can surface, the hunter leaves the room and softly closes the door behind him.

On his way back to Priwen headquarters, Geoffrey thinks about the strange leech doctor some more. The man seems is a living paradox – no, an unliving paradox, he corrects himself. He really is unlike any other bloodsucker Geoffrey ever encountered. In fact, he is unlike any other _man_ he’s ever met. Intriguing, for sure. Dangerous, most definitely. Helpful, maybe.

So far he hasn’t done anything too leechy, has he? The fact that he has been working at Pembroke for so long now without any disturbing news coming from the place – well, other than them _hiring_ a bloodsucker – speaks in his favour. Whenever the subject of feeding comes up, Reid is very adamant about not sustaining himself on human blood. He has admitted to biting a few Priwen soldiers, but swears that was only in self defence. As the reports of all patrols land on his desk, Geoffrey knows that the vampire indeed never sucked any of them dry.

Still, he won’t trust the man. He is a leech, after all, and Geoffrey knows all about leeches. Although he was still a boy when his father-turned-vampire ripped out his mother’s throat, the hunter still remembers every detail of how his family was destroyed by those fucking bastard bloodsuckers. How could any of them be trusted, with their leechy powers, ghostlike movements, keen fangs and haunting eyes. Geoffrey stops for a moment, considering the thought. Yes, Reid’s eyes are haunting indeed, their pallor is unsettling, but they certainly don’t evoke the hunter’s disgust or alarm as the red ones he’s seen with other leeches. He remembers the stare down in Swansea’s office, the first time he met Reid. The atmosphere had been openly hostile – with a snicker Geoffrey recalls how Swansea had implored them to knock it off as he’d only just had the carpet cleaned – but there had been an underlying tension. It had been Reid’s eyes that caught his attention first and, perhaps, had made him turn away in the end rather than start a fight right there and then. Now Geoffrey doesn’t buy that crap about windows to the soul and all, but either the Ekon is deceit in person or incredibly bad at hiding anything that goes on within him. Geoffrey snorts in frustration. Riddles have never been his strongest suit, and this leech seems like a tough one to crack.

* * *

When Geoffrey returns to Pembroke, he takes Richardson with him, one of his most trusted captains. He doesn’t fear meeting Dr Reid alone but feels that what he has to say might be important enough to get another, perhaps less biased opinion.

The hospital staff is clearly not happy to see them. “Mr McCullum, you again?” Nurse Branagan glares at him suspiciously, completely ignoring the other man. “I hope you haven’t come to raise hell again? We have barely restored order.”

“Don’t worry,” Geoffrey answers as politely as he can. “We are here to speak to Dr Reid. In fact, I have an appointment. Any idea where I might find him?”

“He’s operating on a patient. You should find him in the operating theatre. But please, do wait outside until he’s done, will you?” She gives them a pleading look.

Geoffrey wonders whether she fears they might surprise the good doctor bent over his patient, feeding. Or perhaps she doesn’t even know he’s a leech? Though what good would a nurse be if she can’t recognise death’s pallor in a man’s face? He gives her a curt nod. “Sure, we’ll wait.” But Geoffrey has no intention of missing any opportunity where he might catch that leech doing something… leechy. He gives Richardson a sign to stay and wait outside the theatre and, if necessary, keep nurse Branagan away. Then he quietly opens the door and slips in without a sound.

He nearly cries out in shock when he sees Dr Reid, covered in blood and bent over his patient. He is alone, working concentratedly, but, indeed, he _is_ working, not feeding. There is so much blood that even Geoffrey can smell it. But what’s even worse is the sight of the doctor half up to his elbows in the man’s guts. Having already seen too much, the hunter quickly backs out of the room, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Richardson gives him a horrified look. “Is everything all right, Geoffrey? Is he… is he…”

“No, he really is operating. I think,” Geoffrey adds after a split second.

Richardson notices that his face has taken a lightly green colour. It takes all of his willpower to bite back a grin. Everyone at Priwen knows that even though McCullum is by far the fiercest of their hunters, he usually finds it hard to stomach the sight of guts and gore, at least when it comes to humans. “I’ll get you a glass of water,” he offers, grateful that Geoffrey just nods.

They don’t have to wait too long until Jonathan comes out of the theatre and calls for nurse Hawkins. His shirt and apron are smeared with blood but he has cleaned his hands and arms, though there are still splatters of red on his face and throat. He seems a bit surprised at seeing the two Priwen still waiting by the door. Before he can greet them, Pippa Hawkins rushes over to them and the two go back inside. Geoffrey hears a low murmur, then the door is pushed open again.

“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do for you?” Jonathan asks.

“Dr Reid,” Richardson nods, stretching out a hand to greet Jonathan. He seems friendly enough, and the handshake feels sincere.

“Just tell us already about Scotland.” Ah, McCullum is his usual prickly self. Though still a bit green around the nose. So it really was him who came in when he was operating. Jonathan is genuinely astonished that the sight of it had such an effect on the leader of the Priwen Guard. Still, he manages to hide a grin. With the talk ahead, he needs the best version of Geoffrey he can get, so provoking him isn’t an option. Instead, he motions them to lead the way upstairs. “Let’s discuss that in my office.”

Jonathan isn’t sure whether he is relieved that McCullum hasn’t come alone tonight. But why _did_ he bring someone along? “Can I offer you a drink?” Richardson shakes his head, but McCullum looks like he could use one, so Jonathan pours a glass and hands it to the hunter. To his surprise, Geoffrey takes it without any protest.

“Right, you’ve noticed my absence,” Jonathan begins, taking off the bloody apron. “I already told McCullum that I had business in Scotland.” He searches for the right words as he recounts the events taking place after Dr Swansea’s return. He tells them of his fight with Harriet Jones and the Red Queen, tries to explain about the Blood of Hate and the epidemic as best as he can, the link to Lady Ashbury, his discoveries in Scotland, the death of William Marshal. He is sometimes interrupted by questions, but both McCullum and Richardson listen to him attentively. Richardson in particular seems genuinely interested and certainly less doubtful than his leader. “Please believe me I had nothing to do with the transformation of Harriet,” Jonathan finishes. “And if Dr Swansea had had any idea what he’d unleash, he would never have done it, I swear.” He swallows hard. “Now that the source is… gone, will you call off the Great Hunt?”

“Well, there’s still plenty o’ bloodsuckers roaming the streets, and you wreaking havoc at the Ascalon Club hasn’t exactly pacified things, but yeh, I’ll call it off. For now.” Geoffrey seems much less truculent than usual, and Jonathan wonders how much of this is thanks to Richardson. It’s not like anyone could ever hold McCullum in check, but the older man has a radiating calm that seems to appease his leader. Maybe that’s why Geoffrey brought him along?

“You know you’ll always have my assistance when it comes to fighting bloodsuckers and Ascalon pack roaming the streets,” Jonathan says with a faint smile. As he expected, Geoffrey gives him a growl. “And you know that if you ever take just one step in the wrong direction, I’ll kill you.” And it’s true, if push comes to shove, Geoffrey won’t hesitate too long to end the Ekon’s life.

“I trust you will,” Jonathan replies softly. He means it in the truest sense. He both trusts Geoffrey and counts on him to do just that. And having his existence ended by the leader of the Priwen Guard should he ever take that step doesn’t seem like the worst way to go.

“We will talk about this again, leech,” Geoffrey says as he and Richardson turn to leave, though he doesn’t even know what exactly he means by ‘this.’ Despite himself he believes what Dr Reid told them and he even feels that he didn’t leave anything out or tried to make his own role seem more heroic. Still, he has an unexplainable wish to talk to Reid again, and soon. That leech still has a lot of explaining to do.

“My office is always open to you, Mr McCullum,” Jonathan replies just a bit too friendly as he watches the two men leave his office. He is tired and hungry but when he takes a seat to think about the meeting, a wave of relief washes over him. That talk has gone much better than he’d ever hoped for and things seem to look up a bit. Maybe even McCullum can one day be ‘swayed to his ideals,’ Jonathan wonders as he takes the glass the hunter has drunk from. It’s empty, but the enticing smell of whisky is still lingering in it and he can’t help but notice the mark where Geoffrey’s lips touched the glass. He sighs, then gets up to change his shirt and put on his coat. He needs blood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey still can’t trust Jonathan. Good thing he has a captain who is way more sensible and less stubborn than him.

When Jonathan takes his leave of Lady Ashbury this night, he feels uneasy. It’s been a few nights he last saw the Priwen leader, and even though he has been almost constantly working in the hospital and on a cure for Elisabeth, Geoffrey McCullum has never been far from his thoughts. He is frustrated because he doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere with his experiments, which in turn worries Elisabeth a great deal. His fear of failing her sits on his shoulders like a dark shadow, weighing him down. He’d promised her he’d find a cure, which was the only way to dissuade her from killing herself in Scotland – and Jonathan doesn’t know what he’d do without her, for what is eternity without even a friend by your side? He shivers at the thought. He could always turn McCullum, he muses – if he can’t have a companion maybe an eternal opponent won’t be half bad. And God knows he’s thought about it, that night they fought in the attic of the Pembroke. He had wanted to turn the man just to make him feel what it was like being a _leech_ , being hunted and haunted for all eternity. He had enjoyed the look of horror on McCullum’s face when he realised what Jonathan was suggesting, a punishment so much worse than death. And, to be honest, that look had been enough for Jonathan to know that he could and would never turn anyone against their will.

The shriek of a Skal somewhere off in the distance brings him back to the present. It’s only about an hour until dawn, and Jonathan longs for sleep. He hasn’t got far when he hears another scream, this time human. Judging by the noises it must be a Priwen patrol fighting some Skal or beast. He decides he doesn’t care enough to interfere but stops dead in his tracks when he hears a voice he’ll recognise anywhere. McCullum is in trouble, no doubt, so unless he wants to lose even the option of having a forever opponent, Jonathan needs to hurry.

It takes him only a few seconds to get there, but it’s already too late. He arrives just to watch a sewer beast sinking its fangs into the throat of a Priwen rookie, while another beast is about to jump at McCullum, who hasn’t even managed to draw his sword yet. The boy doesn’t stand a chance, but Geoffrey does. With a swoosh Jonathan jumps in front of the beast, shielding McCullum from the blow. He knows brute force is the best way to defeat these monsters, so he bludgeons it, almost blind with rage, and then jumps at it to tear out its throat. He tastes blood, drinking hard, until he feels the beast going limp in his grasp. All this doesn’t take more than a few seconds and without a pause Jonathan rushes towards the second beast still bent over the rookie’s body. Ripping his claws through the grey fur, Jonathan makes the beast scream in anguish before his fangs tear at its neck, biting without mercy, crushing bones and ripping apart muscles and tendons.

As soon as the beast falls to the ground, he’s at the rookie’s side. The boy is barely hanging on, the gaping wound on his neck spewing blood in regular, albeit slowing intervals. He presses his hands on the wound, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. Until he is distracted by the cold steel tip of a sword on his throat.

“Step away. NOW.” Geoffrey’s tone is quiet and dangerous.

“If I do, he’ll die!” Jonathan shouts, refusing to take away his hands pressed on the rookie’s wound. He feels the blood pulsing under his fingers. Its delicious smell burns in his throat, and Jonathan needs to turn his head away. He’s the only chance the soldier has, he thinks, gritting his teeth.

“Step away or I swear I will fuckin’ kill you, leech!” Geoffrey yells at him.

“Geoffrey, will you please just…” A hard blow knocks Jonathan off his balance and forces him to let go of the wound, blood spurting right into his face. The smell turns everything around him into a hazy red and he can’t help but lick the blood off his lips, giving a moan of pleasure.

“You disgustin’ sonofabitch!” Geoffrey hits him again, trying to get as much space between the groaning rookie and the vampire, not understanding that his mistrust is the boy’s certain death. “Get the fuck out of here!” the hunter snarls as the Ekon slowly retires.

“I was only trying to help him, you bastard,” Jonathan hisses before he disappears in a puff of black smoke.

Geoffrey stares at the smoke in disbelief. It’s the first time Reid has been rude to him. He looks at the rookie, who is now lying still. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Geoffrey mutters through clenched teeth. The boy’s bleeding out, and there is nothing he can do for him. In fact, he has just made sure that the rookie won’t make it. He shakes his head, horrified by himself when he realises that the doctor really had only been trying to save the man.

Geoffrey’s scream of anger and frustration is so piercing and harrowing that it gets the attention of two other Priwen patrols in the vicinity. When his men arrive at the scene of the fight, they stare at their leader in shock. None of them has ever seen him like that.

“Sir, what happened? Were you attacked? Who did this? Are they… are they all dead?”

The men throw their questions at him until he barks at them to shut the hell up. “It was two sewer beasts, took the rookie by surprise. He didn’t stand a chance.” He swallows at the half-lie and chooses not to mention the Ekon at all. How could he explain any of this to his men? It’d be hard enough to tell the boy’s mother about his death. Bleeding hell, why didn’t he just let Jonathan do what he was _good_ at?

“Sir…” the men look at him, clearly confused and worried. “Sir, we asked if we should take Johnson back or if you want…”

He just nods, and when they pick up Johnson to carry him to headquarters, Geoffrey follows his men, never looking back, almost unaware of his surroundings.

“Mr McCullum?” Someone’s tugging at his coat and with a start Geoffrey realises that one of the Priwen medics is standing by him. “Are you badly injured?” the man asks softly. He, too, has never seen the Priwen leader so absentminded and… hurt.

“I don’t know,” Geoffrey’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Let me ‘ave a look then, Sir. You really don’t look too good.” The medic puts an arm around his shoulders, leading him inside.

* * *

The news spread fast. It’s not so unusual that rookies get killed, particularly when there’s sewer beasts involved. It’s not unusual that McCullum gets hurt in a fight, either. But the way this whole killing business seems to have got to him this time is alarming.

Captain Richardson notices how the men are whispering among themselves and sees their gloomy and anxious faces. They look at him, too, knowing that he is the only one who can fix things with the leader, because he is the only one never afraid of McCullum’s tempers – and the only one he listens to.

When he knocks on the door of Geoffrey’s room, there’s no answer, but Richardson lets himself in anyway. Looking at Geoffrey sitting at his desk, unmoving, looking almost as if he’s sleeping, he pulls up a chair. “The men are inquiring after you. They’re worried, Geoffrey. Tell me what’s wrong.” His tone is insistent, but he waits patiently as the other man finally begins searching for words.

“The rookie was taking point. I thought it was fairly quiet so I let him… He was… we were completely surprised by those fucking sewer beasts. And two of them! The boy didn’t stand a chance, and if Reid hadn’t shown up when he did, Fred, Priwen would have to look for a new leader now.”

“Reid? You mean Dr Reid was there?” Richardson asks incredulously.

“Yeah. Killed the sewer beasts before I even understood what was happening. Tried to save Johnson…” his voice trails off.

“But you wouldn’t let him,” Richardson looks away with a heavy sigh.

“I thought he was gunna… I don’t know… Y’see, no matter what he does, I just can’t trust him, Fred. I can’t.” Geoffrey sounds almost desperate. “I wish I could, but he’s a fuckin’ leech, for God’s sake…”

“Well, he’s also a doctor. And, come to think of it, he’s been a doctor longer than he’s been a leech. I think you should try to give him a chance. For all our sakes.”

Geoffrey stares down at his hands. He knows Richardson is right, as he usually is. “How would you suggest I do that?” It’s not a rhetorical question.

“Well, I’d say you try to get to know him better for starters. Look, Geoff, I know how hard that is for you of all people, but give him a chance. Talk to him. We haven’t heard anything about him going around biting people, and we’re always the first to hear about that kind of leech activity. You yourself saw the man help others – remember how he had blood all over him in the hospital and still managed to… not drink? I’ve seen a lot, but that was a first. To tell you the truth, I’ve seen enough to believe that he’s different – to believe _him_.” Richardson lets his words sink in, then gets up and walks around the desk to give Geoffrey a comforting pat on the back. “Geoffrey, don’t let that boy’s death get to you so much, he knew how dangerous it is and still chose to follow you. And, you know, having his throat ripped open by a sewer beast he was probably a goner anyway. Sort yourself out and then come back. We need you.” With that, he takes his leave of Geoffrey. At the door, he turns back once more. “Oh and Geoff, when you talk to Reid? Make sure to be your _good_ self,” he softly reminds the hunter, then he’s gone, gently closing the door behind him before Geoffrey can answer anything.

Sitting at his desk, Geoffrey buries his face in his hands. What a horribly fucked up night. Johnson’s death is painful, but the guilt is worse. How could he be so stupid to threaten Reid when the man had just saved his life and was trying to save Johnson’s as well? True, he hated bloodsuckers, but he always thought that this hatred helped him focus and get his job done – now the hunter realises it clouded his vision until he couldn’t even see the obvious anymore.

With a start he gets up and grabs his coat. He must talk to Reid, feeling that apologising to him can’t wait, not this time. He snorts in frustration. He’s so much better at breaking things than at mending anything and has no idea what he should tell the doctor. Leaving headquarters and making his way through the now empty streets, he aligns sentences in his head and tries to find the right words, yet he already knows that when he’ll stand before Reid, they’ll all be forgotten.

When he arrives at the hospital, the sky has already turned a bright pink. Geoffrey hopes that Reid hasn’t gone to sleep yet, though his heart sinks when he bumps into nurse Branagan, who informs him that he better leave the premise, and no, he can’t speak to Dr Reid because the doctor went straight to his room when he got back, which was at least an hour ago and he needs his sleep. For a moment, Geoffrey considers turning back, but then he decides he’d rather risk the nurse’s – and probably Jonathan’s – wrath than try and find the courage again to do what he needs to do. He waits until the nurse has turned her back on him, then he sneaks past nurses and doctors into the hospital and up the stairs, hoping nobody sees him. The closer he gets to Reid’s office, however, the more hesitant his steps become. He is pretty sure that this is a _very_ bad idea. Still, he grabs the door handle with shaking fingers and turns it, not bothering to knock. The room is dark, and Geoffrey feels very much like the intruder he is. He half hopes that Jonathan isn’t there, but when his eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness, he can make out the man’s form on the bed.

Geoffrey has to force himself moving forward one step at a time. He would never admit it, but he’s genuinely frightened. He has no idea how to wake up a sleeping vampire. “Jonathan,” he whispers and, very gently, puts a trembling hand on the man’s shoulder. He is surprised – and relieved – when Reid grunts, turns around and mumbles something about letting him sleep. Then Jonathan jumps, fully waking up with a start.

“McCullum, Christ almighty, what on earth are you doing here?!” Jonathan stares at the hunter in shock. “Are you out of your mind? How dare you break into…”

“You said your office is always open to me,” Geoffrey ventures in a small voice, still frightened.

“My office? I didn’t… what?!” Jonathan stares at him, baring his fangs in anger. Then the absurdity of the whole situation hits him, and he helplessly begins to laugh. “Seriously, McCullum? Is that the best you can do? My office is always open? You wake me up in the middle of the ni… day and this is what you come up with?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You know that you are risking your neck here, right? Waking me up like this? I thought you’d come to kill me!” Jonathan sighs as he turns to get himself out of bed. It’s probably important, but he sure as hell won’t have a conversation with McCullum while _lying in bed_. “Have a seat, turn on the light if you must, but either way, be quick, I want to sleep.”

Geoffrey is still shaking, but now he visibly relaxes as he watches the other man get up and put on a shirt. That seemed like a close call. And he feels embarrassed, knowing that he had just violated Reid’s most personal space. What had he been thinking anyway? With a shock, the hunter becomes aware of a surge of warmth in his guts. Watching someone sleep has always seemed like a very intimate thing to Geoffrey. He doesn’t know what he’d expected, he has never disturbed a vampire in his sleep before, but Jonathan’s sleep was so human and peaceful that it deeply moved the hunter. Geoffrey clears his dry throat as he takes a seat. “Could I please have a glass of that delicious Scotch you got?” he asks. He really needs a drink.

“Help yourself,” Jonathan sighs. This will probably take longer than he hoped, though he can’t for the life of him imagine what the hunter wants from him.

“I would, but I can’t see shit in the dark.”

With an exasperated sigh, Jonathan gets up, pours a glass and hands it to McCullum. He has no difficulties whatsoever seeing in the dark, which is why he doesn’t miss the fact that the hunter’s hands are trembling when he grabs the glass.

“Humour me, McCullum, what brings you here?”

Geoffrey empties the glass in one gulp. “I’ve come to apologise. I… the fight tonight… I behaved like a fuckin’ idiot, and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. And for hitting you. I swear I only did it to protect Johnson. I thought you was goin’ to kill him!” Jonathan remains silent, and for a moment Geoffrey fears that he’s come here in vain. “Look, I want to trust you, Reid, I really do.” His voice is heavy when he continues. “I just don’t know how.” He hesitates. “You are so different from any other bloodsucker I’ve ever met – I can’t place you; you defy all I thought I knew about your kind and… and it scares me. None of it – none of you – makes sense, and I really want to understand.”

Jonathan can’t help but wonder at McCullum. He’s never seen the man like this, so honest and straightforward and – polite. Truth be told, it’s not a side he’s ever expected to see, but now that he does, he is strangely stirred by it. It’s obvious that it’s taking the hunter a great deal to put aside his usual obnoxious attitude.

“All right,” he says as he finally makes up his mind. “I’ll tell you what you want to know as best as I can. If you let me sleep afterwards.” Jonathan hopes he won’t regret this later, but he can sense no deceit in the hunter.

Geoffrey risks a smile and nods. He has no idea how and where to start. “How do you control the thirst?” he blurts out.

Jonathan thinks for a moment. “I have no choice.” Finding the right words is hard, the more so as this feels like he’s baring his soul to McCullum. It’s not something he’s comfortable with, at all, but he knows it’s probably the only way he can make the hunter understand and believe his sincerity. “You see, drinking human blood is more than just quenching thirst or satisfying hunger. It makes us _crave_ , the more we drink the less it satisfies us. It calls to us like a siren and its sweet smell burns in the throat, begging for relief.”

“So your throat’s burning now, too?” Geoffrey asks almost shyly, though he’s not sure whether he really wants to hear the answer to that question.

Jonathan nods. “Yes, I can smell your blood and, yes, it makes my throat burn with thirst and desire.” The hunter looks at him slightly taken aback, but he continues. “I can _see_ the blood running through you and sense its warmth and power.”

“P… power? My blood is powerful?” Geoffrey stammers.

Jonathan gives him a wry smile. “Every human’s blood is powerful. But yours…,” he looks away for a moment, licking his lips. “Yours is particularly enticing.” He doesn’t dare to watch McCullum in the face but can’t help noticing how the man’s breathing suddenly gets heavier and his heartbeat quickens. “I’m sorry, McCullum, it’s the truth, and you asked for it.”

“Then how can you resist?” Geoffrey has never seen any bloodsucker resist any source of blood, so Jonathan’s restraint is all the more puzzling.

Jonathan’s smile is lost in the darkness. “I feed on other sources to keep the thirst in check. Besides, like I said, it’s not really an option. I don’t know if I could stop once I started, and… it makes me lose myself.” The realisation hits Jonathan hard. He didn’t recognise the feeling before, but that’s what happened when he bit Mary. He _lost_ himself in that hazy red and…

“How do you know?” Geoffrey whispers, interrupting his thoughts.

“I… I know it. Please, don’t ask, I cannot tell you, not now,” Jonathan pleads. “I might tell you one day, but for now… just believe me that I do not and will not feed on humans.”

Geoffrey lets it go, surprised and touched by Reid’s unconditional honesty. “If you can resist the thirst,” he asks instead, “then why don’t other vampires, too?”

“It’s a choice. I don’t know if sewer beasts have any, but Ekons do, and Skals. Not the demented ones roaming the streets,” he adds, “but there are Skals who can. They feed on the dead, but other than that they can be surprisingly human.”

“But they’re beasts, monsters!”

“It’s the hatred of men I fear more. The hatred that turns humans into beasts is much worse than what we’re fighting in the streets at night, McCullum.” Jonathan doesn’t wait for the hunter to reply. “The war… I’ve seen what men do to each other, the wanton destruction and carnage… Doesn’t compare to any hungry Skal roaming these streets, as soulless as they may be,” he whispers, and Geoffrey notices a dark shadow creeping over the other man’s voice.

“It’s the war that taught me to fear my fellow man most of all.” It takes Jonathan a minute before he goes on. “It was about a year ago. I was doing my… rounds… on the battlefield. It had been a quiet day, not too much fighting going on, hardly any shelling all day. And the evening was so still. It wasn’t the calm before the storm, it was almost,” Jonathan searches for an appropriate word, “peaceful. Pure. So I went a bit further than I usually would, sneak into no man’s land, find someone to help...” He gives a helpless shrug as he feels Geoffrey looking at him curiously, a faint smile crossing his lips. For a moment, Jonathan falls silent. There would always be some poor devil or other trapped between the lines, entangled in barbed wire, stuck in the mud, dying in a shell hole with rats gnawing on skin and flesh, freezing in puddles of his own blood and piss. The memories surfacing are almost too much for Jonathan to bear and he swallows hard.

Geoffrey doesn’t move. He feels the other man’s pain very clearly and it bothers him that there is nothing he can do about it. It’s strange, he never thought of Jonathan having a past, a life that came before he was turned. He wonders – is this why Jonathan is unlike any Ekon he ever encountered? Is it because of the war? Or because he doesn’t just discard his past? What is their past to bloodsuckers anyway? The hunter bites his lips in frustration at the elusiveness of the unfinished thought that has begun to turn in this head.

“I checked on a few of our boys when I suddenly heard laughter coming from one of the shelters,” Jonathan continues.” It was so… strange. The laughter was – I don’t know, it sounded so happy and carefree, y’know? And on a battlefield of all places? Made my skin crawl, that sound…” Jonathan shudders slightly. “So I went to that shelter to have a look. It was our lads alright, and they were having fun, sort of. Had taken the risk to roam the battlefield to take back a wounded soldier. It was a German officer, a lieutenant in his early twenties, a proud and arrogant lad. Well, they found that this one man was the one to blame for their suffering, you see? So they questioned him a little. Poor bastard didn’t speak a word of English, didn’t have the slightest clue what they wanted of him. Just sat there, hands bound behind his back, stiff and straight as a board, looking straight ahead. God, he was so scared, he reeked of fear…” Jonathan’s voice trails off. He had wondered why the soldiers hadn’t noticed it, but now he knew they had – of course they had seen the man’s fear and despair. They just chose to ignore it. “I told them to quit harassing the boy, said I wanted to have a look at his wounds. ‘Naturally, Sir,’ one of them said, ‘we’ll have to interrogate him first though. After that, he’ll be all yours.’ They giggled, I didn’t understand why, I thought… thought they really meant it. Said it like that interrogation would change the outcome of the war, or something. They swore they’d fetch me afterwards and told me not to worry. I knew something was off but… I left.”

“They killed him.” There is no reproach in Geoffrey’s voice, it’s just a simple statement as he grasps the weight of guilt in Jonathan’s voice.

“Yes.” He nods. “But it’s what they did to him before that.” Jonathan almost chokes on the words and it takes all of Geoffrey’s willpower not to put a hand on his back to try and comfort him. He knows that if he does, the words won’t come, and he feels that this is all Reid needs, sharing the horror to ease it.

“I only managed to go back the next day. When I found him…” Words fail Jonathan again but under the hunter’s sympathetic gaze, he continues. “They put him up against the wall with bayonets, like a grotesque, horrifying puppet. He was beaten black and blue, his wounds were red and angry and still festering because of the fetid mud they’d shoved in them, cigarette burns all over his body, pants pulled down to his ankles…” Jonathan buries his face in his hands, unable to continue and put into words what he’d seen.

Both men remain silent for a long time. Jonathan feels at the same time empty and relieved. He never told anyone about this; in fact, talking about the war is not something he does, particularly not with someone who hasn’t experienced it. But it’s different with Geoffrey. He knows well enough that the man is wrestling his own demons and dwells in darkness more than in light. And there’s something else, an inexorable feeling of trust he has never experienced with anyone but Mary. He knows it could be the end of him, trying to befriend a Priwen hunter, this one in particular, but right now, Jonathan couldn’t care less.

“Thank you, Reid,” Geoffrey manages to say. He has a lot to think about. “I was afraid of coming here and thought it would be a mistake for sure. But you have some admirers in the Priwen Guard who convinced me otherwise. Yeah, don’t ask, it’s beyond me, too,” Geoffrey grins. “Either way, I will keep in mind what you told me tonight. I don’t really trust you just yet,” he admits, “but rest assured that whatever you told me stays between you and me and I won’t use it against you. I also promise I’ll try to be more polite in the future.” He gets up, but before he takes his leave of Jonathan, he leans in and whispers “and no matter what, I’ll still kill you if I ever catch you doing something too leechy.” He puts a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. It’s not a warning. Smiling to himself, Geoffrey decides that Fred would be mighty proud of him. “Well, I said I’d let you sleep afterwards, so… sleep well, Reid.”

“A good day to you, too, McCullum.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in which nothing’s going to happen (except a fight at the Turquoise Turtle (well, almost)).

“He did _what_?!” Elisabeth exclaims, looking at Jonathan in horror. “He woke you up? In the middle of the day?!”

Jonathan looks at her in confusion, then he throws Charlotte an irritated glance because the young woman can hardly keep herself from laughing out loud, giggling uncontrollably. He’s just told them about how McCullum had broken into his room at Pembroke in the morning, which, granted, is a bit of strange thing to do, but he still doesn’t understand the two women’s reactions. “It’s as I said, he came into my room in the middle of the day to apologise.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do?”

“When he woke you up, what did you do?” Elisabeth has a strangely worried look on her face.

“I didn’t do anything! I just… I poured him a drink and we talked.” Jonathan feels slightly defensive now. After all, it’s not his fault that McCullum had been convinced his apology could by no means wait until the evening.

“You poured him a drink?” Charlotte howls with laughter, irritating the doctor even more.

“Jonathan, seriously, don’t you know that nobody just ‘wakes up’ a vampire?” Elisabeth tries to explain. “If someone does, it’s either to put a stake through your heart or, well, because they have a most serious death wish!”

“Yup,” Charlotte concurs, a bit more sober now. “Mum once bit me when I woke _her_ up in the middle of the day.” She starts laughing again.

“ _Charlotte_!”

“But you _did_!”

“Good God, will you two just stop it?” Jonathan almost yells at them. “I really don’t see what you are on about. I didn’t bite him! He _was_ scared though,” he adds after a short moment, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Well, I honestly wonder how you did it.” Elisabeth shakes her head. “Didn’t think that his blood would be that repulsive, but it suits him, don’t you think?”

“What? No…! His blood… isn’t repulsive… Quite the contrary – it is the sweetest I’ve ever smelt.” A hint of red creeps on Jonathan’s face. And, of course, Charlotte doesn’t miss it.

“Ohhhhh, a vampire with a crush on the leader of the Priwen Guard!” She sounds delighted. “On his blood, I mean” she quickly corrects herself, even though she thankfully doesn’t notice Jonathan’s growing discomfiture.

“Now that is quite enough!” Elisabeth chides her. Unlike her daughter, she hasn’t missed the change in Jonathan’s heartbeat. “Don’t you have some suffragette rally to attend to? Or leaflets to distribute?” What she needs to discuss with Jonathan is not for her daughter’s ears.

“No, I don’t, actually. But I could pretend I did. Will you let me drink up the tea you won’t touch anyway before I’m off to my… rally?”

“Yes, drink it, take it with you, just… be off!”

Elisabeth shakes her head and rolls her eyes when Charlotte leaves the room.

“I sometimes feel like I failed as a mother. Completely.”

Jonathan smiles. “Charlotte is a good girl. It’s just… well, I guess times are changing, Elisabeth.” He recalls the conversation he had with Louise Teasdale, meeting her in the streets of the East End one evening, when she asked him if vampires could even _fuck_. Not very ladylike, but in a way refreshingly honest and clear. Times were changing indeed. “It’s a good thing that young women are taking responsibility. You know, Charlotte is right about what she and her fellow suffragettes demand, I think.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a supporter of their cause,” Elisabeth admits, astonished. “But then again you’re trying to help everybody, aren’t you. I think you’re just too good for this world, even as a vampire.” She shrugs. “But now tell me about that _drink_ you had with Geoffrey McCullum.”

“There’s… there’s really nothing to tell. The man is a mystery to me.”

“But you like him.”

“I do?” Jonathan blushes again. “I… I don’t know. I don’t hate him, that’s for sure.”

“After all he’s done to you? Jonathan, the man is the leader of the bloody Priwen Guard! And he tried to kill you, remember? How can you be so reckless?”

“It’s… I can’t help it. Like you said, I might just be too good for this world. Geoffrey is… he isn’t a bad…”

“Geoffrey? You’re on a first name basis?!”

“Wha… no?! We’re not. He still calls me ‘leech’ most of the time.” Jonathan gives her a helpless shrug. “I can’t really explain why I trust him, but I do. He isn’t a bad man, you know? Just can’t get over his hatred for bloodsuckers. No wonder though…”

“Aha. Interesting.” Her face lights up a little. “And does he know you’ve taken a liking to him?”

“I have _not_ taken a liking…”

“It’s okay, you know.” Elisabeth gives him a warm smile. “There’s nothing we vampires can do about it anyway. When we’re attracted to someone’s blood that way, well, it’s like a curse. Or a blessing, depending on how things turn out. Anyway, don’t try to fight it, it’s pointless. Trust me, I’ve been there.” A shadow crosses her face, but she composes herself very quickly. “Enjoy it. Just don’t become imprudent. Just because you feel that way about his blood doesn’t mean he feels the same way about you.” She places a hand on Jonathan’s. “From the bottom of my heart I wish you may succeed.”

“It’s not like that, Elisabeth, really,” Jonathan tries to defend himself, though he knows he doesn’t need to, not with her.

“You may not be like any other Ekon I have ever met, Jonathan, but I have been a vampire long enough to know a thing or two about blood, thirst and desire.” She laughs at his desperate expression. “Like I said, it’s fine, just promise me that you will take care of yourself and don’t do anything rash.” She gets up to put some more wood in the fire, and Jonathan is thankful for the opportunity to change the subject.

“Did you really bite Charlotte?”

It is Elisabeth’s turn to be embarrassed, as she tells him about _that_ accident.

* * *

When Jonathan leaves Lady Ashbury’s mansion, he feels elated and happier than he has for a long time. Maybe it’s because Elisabeth wasn’t as gloomy as during the previous days, maybe it’s because of what she said about McCullum. Like any other vampire in London, she has every reason to dislike, perhaps even hate the man, yet she not once scolded Jonathan for trusting him. He wonders whether what she said about craving someone’s blood is the truth, but he can’t deny that there is some kind of strange connection between him and Geoffrey McCullum – at least on his part.

He decides to pay the docks a visit before heading towards Pembroke. It’s been a while since he went there and he’s particularly curious about how Sean Hampton is faring. Also, he might need to keep an eye on the Wet Boot Boys; that gang caused some havoc before the epidemic and Jonathan would hate to see them get back into business quickly. Not that they’ve exactly been _out_ of business, but it seems that the epidemic reduced their nasty activities to a minimum.

When he arrives in the borough, he goes straight to the Turquoise Turtle. When it comes to getting the latest news, Tom Watts is the man to turn to. Tonight, the bar seems to be a busy place; loud voices are heard, it almost sounds like a fight is getting out of hand. ‘I thought this is neutral ground,’ Jonathan wonders as he pushes open the door.

“Oh yeah? Well, and your bloody lot should crawl back to the shadows!” Booth Digby booms, threateningly pointing an index finger at a man leaning on the bar. “You are a _menace_ to this city!”

“Now that’s a bit stark, comin’ from a Wet Slipper Kid!” It’s Geoffrey’s voice, its tone dangerous, but the words are too slurred to have the desired effect on Digby.

“Yeh, you just keep talking big, McCullum! Everybody knows that Priwen will attack _anyone_ taking a stroll at night! I’m sure the good doctor will agree with me on that one,” Digby adds when he notices Jonathan.

Geoffrey turns around, holding on to the bar so as not to lose his balance. A strange look crosses his face when he beholds him, a mixture of surprise, anger and relief. “The good doctor?” he slurs, turning to Digby again. “The good doctor knows more about takin’ strolls at night than ye might think! And I very much doubt ‘es happy wif _yer lot_ roaming, pardon me, _strollin’_ the streets!” he retorts.

“You don’t know the half about it, McCullum! He’s the only doctor I’ve ever seen come to these parts of town during the epidemic, even hands out free medicine! Doin’ a lot more for the peace here than that bloody Priwen Guard of yours, that’s for sure!”

Jonathan doesn’t want to be drawn into their fight, fearing that a drunk McCullum might suddenly start calling him a leech in public. Digby may or may not believe it, but either way Jonathan doesn’t want to test the man’s – surprising – loyalty. He’s glad when Tom Watts steps in, separating the two men.

“Gentlemen, please! If you don’t behave, I’ll have you both thrown out!” he warns, and, turning to Jonathan, “thank goodness you’ve come, Dr Reid! McCullum here’s been drinkin’ all night, tryin’ to start fights with everybody. Maybe you can help?”

“He’s drunk, Tom, not ill.”

“He’s bad for business is what ‘e is!” Tom grumbles.

Jonathan rolls his eyes, then he grabs Booth Digby by an elbow. “Mr Digby, could you give us a moment?” he asks quietly, pointing his head at Geoffrey. “You seem much less intoxicated than he is, so, please, let’s not have things get out of hand.”

To his surprise, Digby just nods politely, grabs his coat and turns to leave the bar without further comment, giving Tom a wave.

Geoffrey looks after him with contempt. “Yeh, you run home quick now, boy!” he sneers, then suddenly loses interest and turns to Tom Watts. “I’ll have another one, please.”

The barkeeper hesitates and looks at Jonathan, but since the doctor doesn’t protest, he fills Geoffrey’s glass again.

“Tell me, what is this about?” Reid sounds genuinely concerned.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” McCullum hisses, but at least he doesn’t call him a leech.

“Perhaps not,” Jonathan admits. “But you seem… upset.” He can’t hide the worry in his voice. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You? Nah,” Geoffrey shakes his head, then he downs his drink in one gulp. The swift movement gets him off balance and Jonathan grabs him by the arm to steady him.

“Come on, McCullum, let’s get you home,” he says softly.

Geoffrey looks at him for a second, then he puts on his coat without a word. He seems to be a lot less stubborn when drunk, Jonathan muses, as he asks Tom how much he’s owed for the drink, pays and leads Geoffrey outside. Thankfully, Booth Digby is nowhere to be seen.

“Hell, I feel sick,” Geoffrey mumbles as he stumbles forward. He tries to concentrate on breathing in the fresh, cool air of the night, but it doesn’t seem to help at all. A sour taste is gathering in his mouth. He moans, leaning into Jonathan’s hold. Throwing up always makes him feel very vulnerable, and he _knows_ he’s going to be sick. Drunk as he is, he’s happy for the support without which he’d probably be crawling on all fours by now.

And Jonathan understands what’s wrong with him right away and gently leads him to the river. Better to feed the fish than paint the cobblestones with Geoffrey’s vomit, he thinks, as he steadies the other man.

Geoffrey spits a few times, then shakes his head in despair, groaning. “I can’t…”

“Then push a finger down your throat.”

“I… I can’t. ‘s not gon’ work.” He’s panting helplessly, and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead. He looks at Jonathan apologetically.

“All right, come here then,” Jonathan says as he puts one arm around Geoffrey to support him and, without warning, pushes two fingers deep inside the other man’s mouth. Geoffrey can’t help but empty the contents of his stomach into the Thames River. He dry heaves, coughs and shudders at the exertion, but he already feels much better, despite the burning pain in his throat and nasty taste in his mouth.

Jonathan pats his back reassuringly. “There you go. Better?” He’s relieved when Geoffrey nods silently. “Come on then, let’s run into a Priwen patrol to take you home.”

Geoffrey doesn’t resist when Jonathan puts an arm around his waist, dragging him along. They haven’t gone far, however, when he suddenly stops. “It’s Johnson.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Johnson. The boy you tried to save. I visited his mother today.” McCullum sounds almost sober, his voice heavy with pain and sorrow. He feels it’s important that Reid knows what made him hit the bottle so hard tonight. “Had to tell her about her son’s death, y’know.” There’s something else he needs the doctor to know but that thought is lost in the haze of alcohol.

Jonathan is still searching for an appropriate reply when a loud voice cuts through the darkness.

“Oi, you! Don’t come any closer!”

It’s a Priwen patrol led by one of the chaplains. Jonathan hesitates. There’s something about those Priwen chaplains that makes his skin crawl. It’s not the cross they brandish, but their duplicity, the eagerness with which they use it to hurt and kill. They remind him of _Father_ Whitaker, who confuses hatred with devotion and gives Jonathan the creeps more than any monster roaming the streets and sewers of the city. He’s also pretty sure that Geoffrey would rather not be seen with him, a leech, not by a chaplain.

“McCullum,” he whispers, “there’s one of your patrols right up ahead. Can I leave you alone until they get here? I’d rather not bump into them…”

“Ay,” Geoffrey croaks, “I’ll wait right here, don’t worry. Just make sure they do find me before I die.”

“I will,” Jonathan promises, giving him a wry smile. “And, McCullum? Do yourself a favour. Drink water before you go to sleep.” He gently pats the hunter on the back, letting his hand linger a little too long, then he vanishes into the shadows as the patrol approaches. He makes sure that they take care of Geoffrey and, humming quietly to himself, he makes his way back to Pembroke hospital. Jonathan grins contentedly – he didn’t get the chance to inquire after Sean Hampton, let alone talk to him, but it’s the first time that McCullum wasn’t constantly trying to antagonise him, which can only be considered a success, even though Jonathan doubts that the hunter will remember much about it once he’s sobered up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to the Tate Gallery, anyone?

But Geoffrey remembers it all right. When he wakes up the next day, his head feels heavy and there’s an unpleasant throb behind his eyes. Groaning, he turns to lie on his back, an arm draped over his face so the light coming in from the early evening doesn’t interfere with his thinking. As he puzzles together the previous night’s events, he begins to wonder. It was Reid who helped him get home safe and unscathed. If it hadn’t been for him, things would have got out of hand with Digby, that bloody Wet Boot bastard. Perhaps Digby only wanted to provoke him to get physical first so Tom Watts would throw him out. And the Turquoise Turtle is the only place where Geoffrey can get drunk in peace and without having the worried or reproachful eyes of his own men on him.

What he can’t get his head around is why Jonathan Reid of all people helped him, and stranger still is that Geoffrey didn’t mind. And still doesn’t. He hadn’t felt threatened by the Ekon, not even when the bloodsucker held him so close their bodies touched. The hunter tries to convince himself it’s because Reid used his leechy powers, messing with his mind, but he knows that’s not the truth. It had felt genuine, both Reid’s help and his empathy.

There’s that surge of warmth again. Geoffrey swallows hard. Not being able to hate the bloodsucker with all his guts is disconcerting. He knows he’ll have to tell his men to focus on other leeches for the moment and leave the good doctor alone – it’s the least he can considering what he owes him. ‘Blimey!’ He wakes with a start. He forgot to pay for his drinks! But no, wait, hang on, Tom hadn’t said anything, had he? And he isn’t a regular who could just chalk up his drinks. Geoffrey thinks hard, and then it hits him. The bloody leech paid! Goodness, if he ever means to repay the man for all his bloody favours, he’ll have to start one of these days…

A knock on the door breaks him from his reveries.

“McCullum, you up?” It’s Richardson, peeking through the half-opened door.

“M’yeah,” Geoffrey groans as he throws back the blanket and gets up. “Come in, Fred, have a seat.”

Richardson puts a cup of steaming tea on the desk. “Thought you might need this after last night.” He knows why Geoffrey was drinking, but it still worries him that booze seems to be the man’s favourite way to deal with pain.

“It’s not that bad, but thank you,” Geoffrey says, getting dressed. “So what’s the news?”

“Well, there’s still plenty o’ Skals to take care of. And Lord Redgrave seems to have no intentions of closing that bloody Ascalon Club, either. McIntyre’s patrol hunted some French leech last night, but the sneaky bastard got away. Must be one of Redgrave’s associates. Well and then there’s Lindsey’s patrol who brought you back. Lindsey claimed he saw a leech with you?”

“Hm, yeah, Dr Reid was there.”

Richardson raises an eyebrow but refrains from commenting.

“He picked me up at the Turquoise Turtle and wanted to make sure I’d get back home all right,” Geoffrey mutters. “Don’t give me that look Fred, it’s not my fault that Reid takes his Hippocratic oath so seriously, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Richardson gives him a smile which, for Geoffrey’s liking, is a little too dubious. “But I guess we should all be thankful that he does.”

“Yeah, about that… What do you think, shouldn’t we give him a breather?” He hesitates. “Like you said, there’s still plenty of Skal and Ekon vermin around, so maybe we should concentrate on the ones that are actually causing problems.”

Richardson nods. He’s all for it but decides not to let his enthusiasm show too much. “I’ll tell the men then…”

“No, I’ll tell them myself. Could you please go and let them know I want to speak to them?”

So it’s even more important to Geoffrey than he’d thought, Richardson realises with growing surprise.

* * *

It’s about a week later that McCullum decides he finally needs to pay Reid back for the drinks. He’d thought – hoped, actually – he’d meet the doctor on one of his nightly rounds but hadn’t. It would have worried him if various patrols had not reported seeing him. Geoffrey snorts. Because of his orders, not one of the patrols had engaged with Reid and for a split second he wonders whether the doctor hadn’t lied when he’d said he only fought Priwen guards because they always attacked first. He shakes his head. Why does that bloody leech have to make things so complicated?

Before him, Geoffrey’s work had been easy. Kill leeches. Then kill some more. That’s all there had been to it. The simplicity of the task helped him focus – and somehow it was the only way he didn’t constantly have to think about his family. He prefers replacing his pain with anger and violence, at least for the moment. Once the bloodsuckers have been taken care of, there’ll still be plenty of time to grief.

But things aren’t that simple anymore now, are they? Jonathan Reid not only defies all logic by refusing to play the part of the leech, he is also tearing down Geoffrey’s carefully erected protection. Slowly and piece by piece only, granted, but gently and unswervingly. Is that what bloodsuckers do? Earn your trust so they can have your blood? Geoffrey stumbles over that thought. He’s beginning to trust Reid, indeed. But, without a doubt, no leech really needs their victim’s trust or even consent in order to suck them dry.

Geoffrey sighs, then he grabs his coat, gears up and leaves. It’s still bright outside, the last rays of the evening sun stroking the hunter’s face. He stops for a moment, taking in the warmth with his eyes closed.

“Sir, you going on patrol? Can I come with you?”

Geoffrey looks at the boy who seems to have come out of nowhere. It’s one of the rookies, giving him an eager look. “Holton, right?”

“Yes, Sir, Duncan Holton. So, can I go on patrol with you tonight?”

“No.” Geoffrey shakes his head. At the boy’s apparent disappointment, he quickly adds, “I’m not going on patrol. I have business at the Pembroke.” It’s not a lie, the medics asked him to try and organise some material as their supplies are running low. “I promise we’ll do the next patrol together though, all right?”

Duncan nods, face lighting up. “Thank you, Sir!”

Geoffrey smiles, supressing a sigh. Like all rookies, Holton is eager to hunt leeches, not thinking for one second what might happen to him. With a twinge of pain Geoffrey realises how much the boy reminds him of Johnson. “Go on patrol with Captain Richardson or ask the medics if they need help.” He’d hate to see the kid having to go out with one of the rougher guys who tend to look only after themselves in fights rather than think of protecting the rookies, too. “Or join me to find some grub.”

The boy smiles at the offer. “Thank you, but I’ve already had supper.”

“Well, off you go then, find Captain Richardson,” Geoffrey ushers him on and makes his way to the kitchen, where he hungrily wolves down two plates of soup, eager to get back outside and enjoy the remaining few minutes of sunlight.

When he arrives at the hospital, he notices that the place is considerably less busy than during the height of the epidemic. There are still a few tents in the courtyard, but most of them are empty, and the doctors and nurses don’t look as worn out as they did a few weeks ago.

“Mr McCullum!” Of course it’s nurse Branagan who spots him first. “What can we do for you this time? Do you need medical assistance?” She doesn’t sound pleased at seeing him, but her offer is genuine.

“No, thank you, Ms Branagan, I don’t need anything. However,” he produces the list that one of the Priwen medics had given him, “do you have any of these that you could spare? I’ll pay for it, of course.”

She doesn’t even look at the list. “You’ll have to ask Dr Swansea or one of the doctors about it.”

“Is Dr Reid up then?” he asks, able to supress a slight tremble in his voice.

“I think not. But he should be soon. You can wait for him inside.” She points at the hospital’s open door and, with a curt nod, takes her leave of him. Geoffrey looks after her, astonished at the strange change. She’s never been so civil with him and he half suspects it must have something to do with Dr Reid.

This time he doesn’t need to sneak up the stairs, since none of the staff or the patients are taking any notice of him. For a second he fears meeting Dr Swansea, but when he reaches the first floor, there’s nobody around and the door to Swansea’s office is closed. At Reid’s door, he stops, hesitating. Then he knocks.

“McCullum, come in.”

Bloody leech and his parlour tricks! Geoffrey rolls his eyes, then he opens the door.

“Ah, so it really is you!” Jonathan gives him a friendly smile. “What brings you here?” he asks as he buttons up his shirt. Geoffrey catches a glimpse of his pale chest.

“A favour. My medics asked me to get some drugs and medical equipment and I was wondering if you could help me out.” He hands him the small piece of paper. Jonathan takes a quick look, going through the list. “Yeah, we should have enough of most of that. I’ll make sure you or one of your men can collect it here tomorrow evening.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’ve also come to pay up.” Jonathan gives him a confused look. “I believe it’s you who paid for my drinks at the Turquoise Turtle? I really appreciate that, Dr Reid.”

“Oh, that!” Jonathan waves his hand. “It was my pleasure, really, you don’t owe me anything.”

‘I owe you my fuckin’ life,’ Geoffrey thinks. “Thank you. I hope I’ll get the chance to treat you to something in exchange then,” he offers, a tad too boldly for his own liking.

“Last time I checked, Tom didn’t serve any blood,” Jonathan laughs. Still, he warms at McCullum’s offer.

“Yeah, because that would be fuckin’ disgustin’!” the hunter grins.

Jonathan gives him a helpless shrug. Thinking of blood wasn’t very smart of him, not with McCullum standing so close to him. He tries not to sense the other man’s blood pumping through his body, heart beating a tad faster than usual, so he takes in his smell instead, closing his eyes for a split second too long for Geoffrey to miss.

“What is it?” he asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Nothing. It’s just…” Jonathan squirms under the other man’s gaze. “I can smell the sun on you,” he finally admits in a small voice, hasting to add, “I haven’t seen it for so long and I miss it, y’know. Wish I could take it in just once more, take a walk on a summer’s day, feel its warmth on my skin.”

Geoffrey is surprised by his candour. “What would happen if you did? Would it kill you?”

“Not necessarily. But the pain… the pain is not really worth it.” At Geoffrey’s questioning look, Jonathan continues. “It feels like you’re ablaze – which is essentially what you are. It’s like burning alive.” After a short pause he adds, “You should remember, you were there. The ultraviolet lights in the attic? That’s what sunlight does to me.” He gives the hunter a skewed grin.

Of course Geoffrey remembers. And he’s embarrassed by what he said and did that night and glad that he hadn’t got his chance to kill Jonathan then, though their encounter is the last thing he wants to dwell on just now.

“In any case I miss the sun,” Jonathan says again. Clearly, the fight is a subject he doesn’t want to discuss either. “I miss the light, especially at dusk and dawn. I have always loved watching how the sky changes colours, now all I get is the dark colours. I guess that’s why I love William Turner’s work so much.”

“The painter?”

“You know him?” Jonathan asks, unable to hide his surprise.

Geoffrey is about to give him a rant on how he might be a woodsman, a dumb Irish bastard, uneducated, not from a family as well off as Reid’s, but then he just nods. He has seen some of the paintings and can easily understand Jonathan’s fascination.

“Sadly, I can’t even see them anymore now. Museums aren’t open at night,” he shrugs as a response to Geoffrey’s unasked question.

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem for a man with your talents, right?” Geoffrey asks. “You could just sneak in, I bet nobody would notice a thing.”

“I guess I could sneak in, but… it’s not that easy.” Jonathan bites his lip. “Vampires can’t get into homes without having been invited first. I’m just guessing the same applies to breaking into museums.”

Geoffrey stares at him in surprise, then chuckles. “That’s a new one. Interesting though! Thanks for the information, leech!” This time, it almost sounds like an endearment. “What if I invited you in?” he smirks. “The night is still young, we’d have enough time to get there and back before the sun rises.”

Jonathan stares at him in disbelief, then he breaks out into a roaring laughter. He pictures the two of them breaking into the National Gallery, sneaking around not to steal or destroy anything but to admire painted sunrises and sunsets. The idea is absurd. So absurd that it might actually work. “Would you?” he asks when he finally manages to stop laughing. “Would you really break into the National Gallery just to invite me in?”

Geoffrey shrugs. It’d be a reckless thing and nothing he could ever openly boast about – break into a bloody museum just so a leech could go see some paintings?! The idea is so bad it could have been born from a night out getting pissed with friends, but at Jonathan’s hopeful look he decides that it’s been too long since he’s done anything nearly as stupid as this. “Count me in,” Geoffrey grins.

“Let’s get Milton’s lorry then, just to make sure we’ll get back in time. I’d rather not have to spend the day hiding at Trafalgar Square.”

Jonathan’s suggestion definitely sounds like a very drunk plan, and Geoffrey warms up to it more by the minute. “Can you even drive that thing?” he asks.

“I learned driving in France, so I should be able to cope with it, yes.”

And Jonathan is right. They arrive at the National Gallery of British Arts without any problems, though it seems to Geoffrey that the bloody vehicle is so loud they woke up half of London. Jonathan parks near the museum, not too closely, as that’d be too conspicuous.

“Let’s wait, see if there’s anyone around,” Geoffrey suggests when Jonathan kills the engine and turns to open the door.

“Well, we’re not doing anything forbidden.”

“Yet,” Geoffrey corrects him with a grin. “You’re not getting cold feet, Reid, are you?” he teases.

“My feet are always cold,” Jonathan retorts. “Perks of being a leech.” He makes a face, baring his fangs.

“Damn, can’t you retract these?!”

“No. Well, I can, but only when I’ve drunk enough blood.”

“So… you hungry tonight?”

“I always am. But don’t worry, McCullum,” he adds when he sees the other man hesitate, “your neck is quite safe from my fangs.”

“Quite safe, huh,” Geoffrey repeats in a doubtful voice.

“Trust me, McCullum,” Jonathan turns to him, “I swear I won’t bite you. Or any other civilian we might encounter. I told you before, I don’t feed on humans, you really have nothing to fear. Except perhaps of the night guards in the museum. Unless of course you’re too scared to come with me,” he jokes, opening the door. He needs some fresh air. Despite his promise – which he will keep no matter what – the scent of the hunter so close to him is almost overwhelming. It’s enticing, and even though it doesn’t exactly water his mouth he’s still afraid he might do something… improper. Thankfully Geoffrey isn’t the one to sense other people’s heartbeats.

“You really think the leader of the Priwen Guard is scared of breaking into some museum?” Geoffrey is clearly excited, too. “My feet, leech, are always warm,” he grins challengingly.

“Is that so? Well, then let’s not waste any more time.” With that, Jonathan takes a look around, and, when he senses that nobody is near, he motions Geoffrey to follow him. Together, they walk around the building, careful to stay in the shadows, looking for a way in when Geoffrey points at a small wooden door. It’s locked.

“You are not planning to batter in that door, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Geoffrey grins as he reaches into his coat. Jonathan watches him fumble at the lock until the door opens with a small click. “Perks of being a…”

“You know how to pick a lock?!”

“Better than you can drive.” He grins mischievously, and, before Jonathan can say anything, bids him to enter. “Please, after you, Dr Reid.” He motions for him to step in. “I hope that is enough of an invitation.”

Jonathan steps over the threshold. He feels fine. “Hmm-m,” he nods, “it appears so.”

It is quite dark in the museum, but Reid seems to know his way. In any case he walks through the long corridors and rooms without hesitation. Geoffrey follows him, listening for any distant steps or noises from night guards who must be patrolling the museum, until he recalls that Jonathan’s senses are much more acute than his.

“Here!” Jonathan whispers, grabbing Geoffrey by the sleeve of his coat and dragging him into one of the rooms. Unlike the vampire, Geoffrey finds it difficult to even discern what is on the paintings, so he moves closer to the walls they’re hanging on, careful not to touch anything. Now that he can make out shapes, colours and scenes, he understands why Reid has so much wanted to go here. When he turns to look at him, he sees Jonathan standing in front of an enormous painting. Quietly, Geoffrey walks over to him, but the other man doesn’t seem to notice him. He just stares at the painting, unmoving, he doesn’t even breathe. It shows fishermen at sea at night, their boat almost lost in the surf. “I thought you wanted to see the sun,” he whispers, leaning in close to Jonathan.

The Ekon turns around with a start, looking as if he’s just woken from a dream. He is just about to answer, when his attention is directed elsewhere. A night guard is shuffling along the corridor, the light of his lantern flickering eerily across the walls. Before Geoffrey can react – or rather, panic – Jonathan grabs him by the waist, holding him close, and the next thing he manages to take in is that they’re… elsewhere. And that his head is spinning.

“Are you all right?” Jonathan asks him, his voice barely a whisper, still holding him close.

“What was _that_?!” Geoffrey gasps.

“That,” Jonathan smirks, “was you using leechy powers.”

“My head…”

“I know, but the dizziness will pass quickly. And after a few jumps you don’t even feel it anymore.”

“Have you ever done this?”

“You mean with someone else? No, not really…” He thinks about it for a moment. Could it have been dangerous for Geoffrey? “How did it feel?” he asks with a worried look on his face.

“I don’t know…” The hunter searches for words. “It felt fast and strange and scary as hell… and… great.” His nerves are still tingling. “You could let go of me, unless you’re planning to do it again right now. Though I might have to throw up if you do.”

“Please don’t. Not tonight. Not in the museum.” Jonathan gives a small laugh and takes his arm away, though he doesn’t feel like he needs to apologise for what was, technically, a hug.

Geoffrey regrets having said it; now that the touch is gone, he suddenly seems colder. Strange, considering that Jonathan’s body didn’t really feel warm. And how could he even be that close to him without acting like a bloodsucking bastard? But before Geoffrey can dwell on the thought, Jonathan says: “Can we go see some painted sunrises and sunsets now, please?”

The night guard has long gone, oblivious of their presence, and is probably doing his rounds elsewhere in the building when the two men go back the way they came from some hour later. At the door, Jonathan stops, feeling the faint heartbeat of someone walking past in the distance.

“Wait, there’s someone out there.”

“Well, as long as it’s not that bloody Booth Digby _taking a stroll_ or a burglar deciding to pay the National Gallery a visit, I don’t care,” Geoffrey grunts, getting a quiet chuckle from Jonathan.

“Whoever it is, they’re gone now. And we’d better go, too.” Before he sneaks out of the door, Jonathan turns around. “Thank you very much for this, I really enjoyed it.” There’s so much more he’d like to tell McCullum, but that’ll have to wait.

“Me too,” Geoffrey replies huskily. He clears his throat. “The real adventure, however, will be driving home with you, Reid,” he quips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan needs saving - and Geoffrey delivers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some graphic violence here, as well as some blood drinking.  
> 

It almost feels like a déjà vu, only worse. Jonathan is sitting in Lady Ashbury’s drawing room, Elisabeth is giving him one of her horrified looks and Charlotte’s just run out of the room because she could no longer contain herself, hooting with laughter until tears ran down her face. Jonathan rolls his eyes. This place is not a mansion, it’s a nut house. He doesn’t even remember what he’d said that got Elisabeth’s attention, making him tell her of that visit to the National Gallery, but he knows that, right now, he hates himself for this slip of the tongue. And just telling the women that he’d been there would not suffice, obviously. No, they needed to hear every sordid detail, as they called it, when they heard that Geoffrey McCullum had been involved.

“Could we please not talk about this anymore?” he groans. “It’s not like it was… legal or anything. I’ve got a reputation to lose, after all, and really don’t think doctors are supposed to break into museums.”

Elisabeth laughs when he looks at her with a rueful expression. “I shan’t lose another word on this, dear Jonathan,” she says, theatrically putting a hand on her heart. “And rest assured that Charlotte won’t either, not to anyone else anyway. Speaking of reputation, how is your research coming along?”

“I think I might be onto something. It just takes time.”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re working hard, and I honestly didn’t want to sound ungrateful, Jonathan.”

He nods, giving her a smile, then he gets up. “Well, I got the sample I needed,” he pats the pocket in his coat, “and I entertained you quite long enough, I think. There’s one more thing I’d like to try out when I get back to the hospital, so I will take my leave now.”

“Please don’t be angry about Charlotte. You know she doesn’t mean to offend you, she just… I think it’s probably her age, Lord knows.” She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Imagine having her around _all the time_? Anyway, I’ll show you to the door.”

The night feels cool when Jonathan steps into the courtyard, turning back to give Elisabeth a hug. “I’ll come by one of these days to let you know how things are going with the cure.”

“You know that my door is always open to you, my dear.” She gives him a warm smile. “And even if I’m not around, Charlotte is always thrilled to hear about your endeavours!”

On his way back to Pembroke, Jonathan is so lost in thought that he pays unusually little attention to his surroundings. There’s an idea that he’s trying to grasp, something about the blood, something he read somewhere, though he can’t recall where…

“ _It’s a leech!_ ”

A loud voice cutting through the darkness makes Jonathan stop in his tracks, losing the thought altogether. Bloody Priwen guards, can’t they ever give it a rest?

“No, wait, that’s Dr Reid!”

It’s another voice, and now Jonathan sees it belongs to a Priwen rookie coming out of an alley that Jonathan passed seconds earlier. The young man, or boy, actually, is pointing his torch at Jonathan, but he doesn’t make any move to attack.

“Good evening, Dr Reid,” he says instead, nodding politely.

Before Jonathan can reply anything, another man steps out from the shadows. It’s the intimidating figure of a hooded Priwen chaplain.

“It’s a _leech_.”

“Mr Lindsey, that is Dr Reid, we were told to leave him alone.”

“Will you just shut the fuck up, Holton? He’s a leech, I don’t care what his fuckin’ name is!”

Some language for a chaplain, Jonathan thinks.

“But Mr McCullum said he’s off limits”

“He said to give Reid a chance, didn’t say anything about not killing him. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s had his chance!” Lindsey glares at the rookie.

That’s enough for Jonathan. Before any of them can say or do anything, he swooshes the hell out of there. Bloody creep, that chaplain, he thinks when the patrol is no longer in sight.

“Fuckin’ rookie!” Lindsey barks at the young soldier. “Next time you just shut up and let me do my job, got it?”

“But Mr McCullum…”

“Look, I _heard_ what he said, all right? I was there myself!” He glares at Holton, then turns away. “I will get my hands on the fuckin’ leech,” Lindsey murmurs to himself, unaware that Holton hears every word. “I’ll get my hands on him, I swear to God, and I put my hands wherever I want!” His last words are barely audible, but Holton hears them anyway, and they give him a shiver. Whatever Lindsey means, it can’t be good. He wonders if he should tell McCullum about it, but then again he hardly ever sees the leader, and Lindsey is _always_ around. And it’s probably not his last patrol with the chaplain, so he’ll better learn to shut his mouth, Holton muses, doing his best to ignore the uneasy feeling spreading in his guts.

He has no idea how soon Lindsey will deliver on his promise.

* * *

Jonathan, too, keeps his promise. It’s only a few nights later that he visits Lady Ashbury again to tell her of his progress. This time he has no sordid stories on offer, and Charlotte is out distributing leaflets. He still stays at Elisabeth’s place for a long time, talking, watching the fire and _smelling_ tea.

When he takes his leave, the sky is already turning a greenish grey in the east. He walks quickly, smiling to himself, but this time making sure not to unexpectedly bump into a Priwen patrol. He is just about to enter the area of the Docks when he hears a scream. He stops to listen. It’s been a while since he’s last seen a Skal, Vulkod or Ekon, but he knows that they are still lurking in dark and uninhabited dwellings and, particularly, the sewers. Perhaps it’s been so quiet that people thought it would be safe to be outside at night again. Well, comparatively safe.

Another scream pierces the night. It seems to come from the sewers near the riverbank.

When Jonathan gets there, all is quiet again, but the iron gate leading into the city’s entrails is open. He goes in, making his way through the long tunnels. He can’t smell any blood, but for some reason he is sure that he must go on. The sewers seem more quiet than usual; there’s a few rats – he feeds on two of them, though with their smelly, wet fur they are even more disgusting than the ones scurrying about above ground – but no other signs of life. He goes past a few locked gates, following the ones that are open, until he notices an unlikely yet familiar smell in the air. He can’t place it at first, but when he does, it’s already too late. It’s petrol, and it’s swimming in a thick layer on the water that he’s standing in. Before he can run, he hears a sizzle, and the whole fucking sewer system seems to catch fire. The flames quickly take hold of his trousers and his coat, burning him, obscuring his view, a hazy red of pain filling his vision. He frantically tries to take off his burning coat while putting out flames on his trousers, gasping and coughing from the smoke filling in his lungs, and forces himself to move forward. There’s a door in front of him, and, thankfully it’s open.

As soon as Jonathan steps into the room, however, he’s shrouded in a green cloud of smoke. He doesn’t even have time to wonder what is going on when the paralysing rays of an upheld cross hold him in place. For a second, green smoke is all that Jonathan sees and feels. He hears a voice, but the words fail to penetrate his mind. The smoke burns on his skin, in his eyes, his mouth, biting and itching. There’s so much smoke that Jonathan goes down on his knees, unable to stay upright. As his vision blackens, he suddenly hears men screaming in agony around him, notices an acrid smell of gunpowder and instinctively he lets himself fall to the ground completely. ‘Where does the mud come from?’ he fleetingly wonders, tasting dirt and blood between his teeth, feeling cold wet earth under this hands where there is really nothing but stone, then he passes out, hoping that the artillery barrage on their trench will soon come to an end.

* * *

When Geoffrey wakes up, bright sunlight is flooding his office. For a second he wonders what woke him, then he turns around and beholds a small figure next to his bed.

“Christ, Holton, what the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he jumps. “Why the fuck did you wake me? And how did you even get in here?” The boy is too scared by Geoffrey’s outbreak to manage an answer right away. “Speak up, man, don’t tell me you woke me for bloody nothing? What’s going on?”

Holton swallows, holding up his hands, clearly distraught and fighting to hold back tears from fear of having done something wrong.

“Tell me already, Duncan, what do you want?” Geoffrey says, a bit quieter.

“I think Lindsey’s gon’ murder Mr Reid, Sir,” the rookie finally blurts out in a trembling voice.

It takes him a few minutes to explain why he’d followed Lindsey, what the chaplain had said about Dr Reid, how he’d gone to the sewers with barrels of petrol.

“Sir, I don’t know if Mr Lindsey is up to anything, but I thought you’d want to know, so I came to tell you, and I thought I did hear screams in the sewer, thought it was important and…”

“All right, _all right_ , give me a break, Holton! You did right, even if there’s nothing in the sewers, so, just calm down, yeh?” Geoffrey tries to reassure the rookie as he hurriedly gets dressed and arms himself. “Now take me to where you saw Lindsey take that petrol to.”

* * *

When Jonathan comes to his senses, his whole body is aching. There’s a blinding light seemingly coming from everywhere and he finds it hard to focus on anything. He tries to turn around, to somehow escape the light, but realises that he can’t move. Groaning, he blinks until he sees the shackles on his wrists and ankles, half propped up against a wall. He feels the cold stone on his naked back.

“Don’t worry, doctor, you’re quite… safe here,” a familiar voice tells him.

Jonathan groans, trying to make out its source.

“Ahh, blinded by the light, are we? Why, I can help with that!” The man sounds almost cheerful.

Jonathan still can’t see anything clearly, but he hears the creaking sound of a door or window closing and the room at once gets darker.

“Now that’s better, isn’t it?” The man is sitting in the corner, eyeing Jonathan with obvious pleasure.

“Who… who are you?” Jonathan croaks, but then he remembers. “You’re Lindsey, one of the Priwen chaplains, aren’t you?”

“Oh, my _name_ is Lindsey. But who I _am_ … well, you will find that out soon enough,” he leers. He gazes at Jonathan, letting his eyes brazenly wander all over the Ekon’s body. Involuntarily, he licks his lips. God, he can’t wait to begin finding out what that body is capable of. He smiles as he recalls the charred flesh that has already healed almost completely.

“What do you want from me? I haven’t done anything,” Jonathan whispers. His parched throat hurts, and that ghastly smoke still lingers in his nose and mouth, stinging relentlessly.

“You haven’t done anything?” Lindsey laughs. “Well, for starters, you’re a _leech_. And, quite frankly,” he admits after a moment, “I don’t need any better reason to hunt you.”

“Hunt me? You’ve already caught me,” Jonathan replies warily. He feels there’s much more to this than normal Priwen business, and what he sees in the other man’s eyes makes his skin crawl, even though he can’t quite place the expression. There’s something deeper than hatred, and it frightens Jonathan.

“Indeed I have, haven’t I.” The chaplain’s smile seems almost polite. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you… I mean I will, eventually, but until then we’ll still have a lot of time together. I think you’re so much more useful to us alive. Though I already feel much safer without you running free in the streets,” he winks. “You see, I really am curious about your kind. Leeches, I mean. And you, Dr Reid,” he bares his teeth, “are one hell of a specimen!” He laughs again, getting up. “Anyway, like I said, we will have a lot of fun together.”

He hums to himself as he takes off his coat and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. When he turns back to Jonathan, he’s holding a knife.

“Now I’ve just witnessed up close what fire and gas do to you,” he chuckles, “but what I’m really curious about is…” He kneels down beside Jonathan but doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he gently begins to trace the Ekon’s body with the cold steel of his knife. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of freeing you of your burnt clothes.”

Jonathan doesn’t reply, glad simply that the man didn’t go as far as taking off his underpants as well. He feels vulnerable enough as it is.

Lindsey traces his body almost absentmindedly, but when he cuts across his chest, he does so with full intention. His face takes on a fascinated, dreamy look as he watches the blood flow from the cut until, slowly, the wound closes right before his eyes. He cuts again, this time deeper, paying no heed to the moan of pain escaping the vampire’s lips. There’s more blood, but this cut, too, closes as smoothly as if there’d never been any damage. He might heal quickly, but he still feels the pain as acutely as a human would – perhaps even more, because of his heightened vampiric senses.

“Does this only work on skin and muscles?” Lindsey asks him, and, without warning or hesitation, pushes the blade deep into his body. Jonathan screams in agony as he feels the steel cut through muscles and organs, stopping, cutting deeper, twitching in the wound.

“You are one sick bastard,” he mutters under his breath when the chaplain withdraws the knife. He feels himself getting weaker due to the loss of blood, and the wound on his stomach is closing only slowly, prolonging the pain.

The other man just laughs. “Oh, my dear, dear doctor. This really is just the beginning of my… experiments.” It’s obvious that the Ekon’s body heals by itself – and fairly quickly given a sufficient amount of blood, but can it also _re-grow_ parts? And what happens when his body lacks the blood to heal? He gets up, and for a second Jonathan hopes that he might let him be, but then the chaplain steps behind him, painfully tugging on the chains. He feels the strong frame of his tormentor, an unyielding mass of muscles.

“Now this is going to hurt, leech,” he whispers, roughly grabbing Jonathan’s head.

In the same moment, there’s a loud noise and the door flies open, but just as a large shadow appears in its frame, Jonathan feels the cold steel of the knife making touch with the sensitive skin on his throat and then break it. He jolts at the searing pain as the knife cuts deep into his flesh, feeling the blood run down his neck and chest. Dizzy with the smell of it and the throbbing pain, he tries to reach for his throat to stem the blood flow, but the chains are much too short. He moans in despair as the blood keeps flowing, the wound closing but agonisingly slowly.

All of this doesn’t take much more than a second, but to Geoffrey it feels much longer. Breaking down the door, he is just in time to see Lindsey hold up Jonathan’s chin and slice a blade right across the Ekon’s throat. Without thinking, Geoffrey raises his gun and pulls the trigger. He hits the chaplain in the chest, making the man stagger backwards, looking down his shirt in disbelief. Geoffrey knows that one bullet is enough, and, paying no heed to the dying man collapsing to the ground with a thud, rushes over to Jonathan, who’s bleeding profusely, moaning and coughing, struggling to free himself.

“Hang in there, Reid, just hang on, I’ve got you.” Geoffrey kneels down behind him and pulls him into an embrace, stilling the blood flowing from his neck with one hand and stroking his trembling body with the other. “It’s okay, shhh,” he tries to comfort the man writhing in his arms. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise. Just, please, calm down.”

“What can I do, Sir?” Geoffrey has all but forgotten about Duncan. The boy looks at him and Reid, his eyes wide in shock.

“Go find something to eat!” The rookie looks at him in utter confusion. “He needs blood!”

“Can’t he drink from him?” Holton points at Lindsey.

Both men look at Jonathan, who weakly shakes his head. “No,” he groans, “I’m an Ekon, I only feed on living beings… and… unliving ones. But unlike Skals, I can’t feed on the dead.”

“But his blood must still be…”

“Christ, Holton, you heard him, he can’t!” Geoffrey barks. “Look at the guy! Would _you_ want to feed on that bastard?!”

Duncan makes a disgusted face. He doesn’t want to feed on anyone, actually.

“So, go find some rats, or something, just hurry the fuck up!” Geoffrey yells, then watches the boy turn on his heels and run up the stairs. ‘Dear Lord, make that kid come back with something,’ he prays, turning his attention to Jonathan.

“Reid, can you hear me?” he rasps. “You’re gon’ be fine, just hang in there.” Cautiously, he lifts his hand from the wound on the neck. It’s closing, and there’s only a trickle of blood now. “There you go, the bleeding’s almost stopped.” His voice is softer than he’s ever heard himself and he pulls Jonathan even closer. The naked skin under his hands feels cold and damp, and the muscles beneath it are quivering uncontrollably.

“I might choke to death though, if you keep hugging me that hard,” Jonathan whispers, almost too weak to speak.

Geoffrey loosens his grip and he feels almost embarrassed by the emotions that run through him.

“No,” Jonathan whimpers, “please don’t let go. I’d rather…”

He doesn’t manage to finish speaking, as Duncan barges into the room.

“Sir, I couldn’t find any rats,” he pants apologetically, looking anxiously at the two men before him. They stare at him, wide-eyed, then Jonathan breaks out laughing, although it hurts.

“I don’t feed on dogs,” he coughs, pitifully looking at the miserable thing in Duncan’s arms.

“Rats, Holton, I said _rats_!” Geoffrey hisses.

“You said rats, _or something_! There were no rats! I swear! Sir, I…” Holton almost yells at his leader, desperate to help and devastated at the apparent mistake. Not that he wouldn’t have felt sorry for the stray yelping in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Jonathan breaks in, “I’ll be fine without rats or dogs.”

Geoffrey shakes his head at the rookie and grits his teeth. “Listen, Duncan. You run back – no, you take that dog, run back to Priwen, find Captain Richardson, tell him what happened here and then come back with him and a few men, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir!” He nods eagerly, running out of the cellar before Geoffrey can say anything else.

“You will _not_ be fine without rats or dogs,” Geoffrey corrects the vampire in his arms. “You need blood, even _I_ can see that!” For a moment the hunter hates his own voice sounding so desperate.

“Be that as it may, there isn’t any to have.”

It takes all of Geoffrey’s willpower not to shout at him for his stupidly polite choice of words. But then he realises that there _is_ blood. “Take mine,” he says simply. “And here’s some of yours back.” Before Jonathan can protest, he lifts his hand, the one he used to stop the bleeding, and gently presses it against the other man’s lips.

Jonathan can’t help but open his mouth and run his tongue over the skin that is offered to him, licking off every drop of half-dried blood. He’s breathing heavily, not realising what a sight he is. Geoffrey stares at him, his mouth half-open. Despite the dreadful situation, recognition hits him that what Jonathan is doing to him is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced. It’s not that he’s never had anyone’s tongue on his skin, but nobody has ever done it like this. The desire is clearly written across Jonathan’s face, as is the hunger, but he restrains himself, careful not to hurt Geoffrey with his fangs.

“My God,” the hunter breathes when Jonathan takes two of his fingers into his mouth, sucking gently. He’s only just beginning to realise how much Reid has come to mean to him. “Take my blood,” he repeats, knowing that Jonathan needs it.

Almost imperceptibly, Jonathan shakes his head. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I trust you.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes. And you will be able to stop. Besides,” Geoffrey gives him a wry smile, “you’re in chains, so I should be quite safe. You didn’t last feed on some disgusting half rotten Skal, did you? And I won’t turn into a bloodsucker if you drink from me, will I?”

Jonathan shakes his head and gives him a weak smile, yet when his cool fingers grasp Geoffrey’s arm, the hunter wonders for a split second whether this might be a mistake. He’s scared of Jonathan’s teeth on his skin, but when the touch comes, it’s the vampire’s closed lips. As Jonathan takes in his smell, Geoffrey closes his eyes. His heart is beating painfully hard. Then Jonathan’s lips part, he feels their moisture, his surprisingly warm breath on his skin, then his tongue and, finally, his fangs. It hurts when he bites, but not too much, and then the unpleasantness is replaced by a strange beauty. He watches Jonathan drink, tenderly sucking on his skin with eyes closed. He drinks eagerly and Geoffrey is beginning to feel the blood loss, but then he just stops, running his tongue over the wound to make the bleeding stop more quickly. As he licks the drops of blood oozing out where his fangs broke the skin, it feels like kisses. Then the touch is gone, and Jonathan raises his head slightly, but not yet letting go of Geoffrey’s arm.

He wants to thank Geoffrey, tell him how delicious his blood is, how sweet his skin tastes, but his voice fails him, his emotions too strong to have him find any words, let alone the right ones.

Geoffrey is glad for the silence. It’s not that he feels uncomfortable, despite the throbbing pain in his arm where the Ekon bit him. On the contrary. He likes having his arms around Jonathan’s body, offering comfort and being comforted by it because it makes him think of Ian, even though Reid is by no means a little brother who needs saving. At least not usually. Geoffrey is too exhausted to dwell on the thoughts turning in his head, so he just closes his eyes, breathing in Jonathan’s scent, waiting for Duncan to come back.

He might have nodded off for a minute or two, for when he opens his eyes, Captain Richardson is kneeling next to him.

“Good God, Geoff, what happened here?” he asks, but seeing both men’s state, he decides it will be better to get them back to headquarters first. “Do you need to get to the hospital, Dr Reid?”

“Mmmno, jus’ nee’ sleep,” Jonathan mumbles, his eyes half closed, still leaning against McCullum.

“And you, Geoffrey?”

“No, I’m fine, just… exhausted,” Geoffrey groans, hoping the sleeve of his coat covers the bite marks on his arm. “Can you just get us back to Priwen HQ, please?”

“Him too?” one of the other men asks, just to make sure that the Priwen leader really means to take a bloodsucker back to their place.

“Hmm-m,” Geoffrey nods tiredly, “him too.”

Luckily, Richardson has come prepared. They put a stretcher on the ground, and one of the guards motions Jonathan to lie down.

“I can walk by myself,” the Ekon hisses, sounding slightly more aggressive than he wants to.

“Ay, but the sun’s up, and I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate some shade, right?” It’s one of the Priwen brawlers, a stout man with a hard face. “Come on, doctor, don’t make a fuss,” he says with a kind smile, “it’ll only be a few minutes. And nobody will ever have to know,” he adds with a smirk.

Too tired to object, Jonathan moves to lie down on the stretcher, letting the big guard cover him with a thick blanket from head to toe. He feels sorry that Geoffrey’s touch is gone, but a friendly and helpful Priwen brawler isn’t something you get every day, either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely nothing happening in this chapter except a sleepover at Geoffrey's...

“Most of you have already heard that I shot Lindsey today.” Geoffrey watches his men as he speaks. They’re quiet, looking at him. Some have a worried look on their face, others are just waiting for him to continue, listening intently.

“I didn’t shoot him because he ignored my explicit order to leave Dr Jonathan Reid in peace.” Geoffrey continues. “I shot him because he was a fucking pervert and a cruel sonofabitch.” He swallows hard. Just thinking about what Lindsey did makes him want to shoot the bastard again.

“We are Priwen!” he shouts. “We _kill_ leeches! We don’t torture them, and we don’t experiment on them! We kill them! If there’s anyone among you,” he growls, “who thinks that killing them isn’t quite enough and feels like torturing or raping a leech – or _anyone_ , for that matter – you had better leave. Because I swear I will fuckin’ kill you, too, if I ever see or hear you doing anything of that kind.”

None of the men lower their eyes when he meets their gaze.

“I trust you,” Geoffrey continues, “and I trust you will leave Reid alone. I know he’s a vampire, but he’s also a doctor…,” he pauses, “and a good man. So unless he starts acting like a proper leech, going around killin’ people rather than helping them, you don’t consider him a target, is that understood? If Reid ever crosses the line, _I_ will take care of him. Are we clear on this?” His men nod in silence. That’s good enough for Geoffrey.

“Feel free to give Lindsey a decent funeral but stay the fuck away from me with anything concerning that bastard. I’m not sorry for shooting him. The only thing I regret is not having thrown him out of the Guard in the first place.” He turns to leave. “And now I’d love to get some sleep. If none of you have any questions that can’t wait for a few hours, I will do just that, and you get back to whatever you were doing. If you need anything, ask Fred.”

When Geoffrey comes back to his room and closes the door, he remembers with a start that he isn’t alone. Jonathan is sitting on his bed, still wearing nothing but underpants.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, your men brought me here, but maybe I ought to…”

“No, I mean, why aren’t you sleeping? You look exhausted.”

“There’s only one bed,” Jonathan replies, “and you need to sleep, too. Besides… I didn’t want to mess up the sheets with all the blood and dirt.” He’s so embarrassed by the whole situation that Geoffrey can’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, Reid, I’ll get some warm water for you to wash and something clean to wear. Just stay where you are.”

He takes a few minutes to get a bucket of hot water from the kitchen, and when he comes back, he is somewhat relieved to find Jonathan still sitting on the bed. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Reid had taken the chance to flee the place, braving even the sunlight to get as far away from Priwen as possible.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you a bath, but, well, here’s warm water, soap and a towel. I’ll get you something clean to wear while you wash.” This could turn out to be embarrassing, but somehow it feels all right to Geoffrey. As Priwen, he’s used to being around men, although as their leader he does get more privacy than them. He’s more worried for the doctor, but when he turns around to check, Jonathan is standing there stark naked, washing himself, paying no heed to Geoffrey. His back is still covered in dirt and smeared blood though.

“Can I… help you with your back?” Geoffrey clears his throat, feeling that he blushes.

“Please,” Jonathan says simply, handing him the soap without turning. He doesn’t seem to mind being touched by Geoffrey and holds still at his ministrations.

As Geoffrey washes away the dirt and dried up blood, he finds a scar running nearly all the way across Jonathan’s back. He can’t help but run a finger over it, feeling the ridge of tissue.

“Souvenir from France,” Jonathan says.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Geoffrey trails off. “Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

It must have been a very close call, Geoffrey muses, but he doesn’t dare asking Jonathan any more questions about it. Instead, he grabs the towel to dry the skin, making sure to be gentle on the scar tissue. “There, all nice and clean,” he says, handing the towel back to Jonathan. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He brushes his teeth while going through his wardrobe, looking for a pair of pants that will fit Jonathan. When he turns around, Jonathan is standing by the bed, the towel wrapped around his waist. Geoffrey nearly chokes on the foam in his mouth at the sight. Jonathan’s chest is still glistening from the water, his skin so pale it’s almost translucent. The deathly pallor contrasts strangely with his well-defined pectoral muscles, and Geoffrey thinks that the Ekon looks more like one of those sophisticated Greek statues than a lethal predator. He remembers the feeling of Jonathan’s skin under his fingers and swallows hard.

“I beg your pardon?” he says, blushing again.

“Where can I sleep?” Jonathan repeats his question, supressing a smile at Geoffrey’s confusion.

“You can sleep in my bed, it’s big enough for two.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “You don’t mind sharing your bed with a leech?”

“Not if that leech keeps his hands to himself, I don’t. And his fangs. Particularly his fangs.” Geoffrey pauses. “Look, Reid, honestly? If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t hesitate one second to tell you to fuck off, you know that. In fact, I wouldn’t have been so stupid to bring you here in the first place. Like I said, I don’t mind sharing my blanket with you, though if you do, you can try to find another bed. Lindsey’s is available, but,” he shrugs, “if I were you, I would definitely go for my bed, not his.” He yawns to hide his grin.

“I don’t want to sleep in Lindsey’s bed,” Jonathan says. ‘I want to sleep in your bed,’ is what he thinks but doesn’t say. He considers suggesting that he could sleep on the floor, but for some reason or other he doesn’t want to ponder, he’s afraid that Geoffrey might not object or renew his offer – and the thought of sleeping in McCullum’s bed, with the man right next to him, is strangely tempting. He grabs the pair of pants that Geoffrey holds out to him. “Thank you, McCullum, that’s very kind of you,” he says quietly.

Geoffrey turns around to pour fresh water so he can wash, too, but he can’t keep himself from sneaking a glance at Jonathan, watching him put on the pants, lie down on the bed and cover himself with the blanket. ‘Christ, McCullum,’ Geoffrey thinks to himself, ‘get a fuckin’ grip!’ He knows he is far too much looking forward to lying next to Reid. ‘Sod it, this is _my_ lair,’ he decides as he undresses to wash.

When he’s done, he turns off the light, making his way to the bed in the dusky light of the heavy curtains keeping the sunlight out. Jonathan is lying on one side of the bed, leaving enough space for him. Geoffrey hesitates just a fleeting moment, then he lies down next to Jonathan. He wishes there was another blanket, but there isn’t. So much for not minding to ‘share his blanket,’ he thinks, when he realises that he really doesn’t. He just fears that their closeness will result in embarrassment for him.

“What if I can’t keep my hands to myself?”

Blimey. Can the leech actually read his mind?! “What do you mean?”

Jonathan hesitates. “In the war, sharing a cot with someone… well, I’d sometimes end up hugging them because of my nightmares. Please don’t drive a stake through my heart if I do.”

“You got me there, I was looking for a perfect opportunity to do just that. Why do you think I let you sleep here?” he purrs. “Don’t worry though, I’m so tired I probably won’t even wake up if you do,” he continues, hoping to himself that he will not miss the hug. “Even if you can’t keep your hands to yourself, you do have your fangs under control when you sleep, right?”

“I do, I think,” Jonathan chuckles. “Your neck is still quite safe from my fangs.”

“Why, thanks, that’s comforting. Well, goodnight then.”

“G’night,” Jonathan mumbles, already drifting off to sleep.

Geoffrey solves the problem of what side to lie on – towards or away from Jonathan? – by lying on his stomach, face turned away but still close enough to Jonathan to show that he doesn’t fear the Ekon. It doesn’t take him more than half a minute to nod off, feeling very fine despite the unfamiliarity of not being alone in his own bed.

When Geoffrey wakes up, it’s not because Jonathan is hugging him. It takes the hunter a second to recall why there’s a body next to his, and another second to realise what woke him. Jonathan is thrashing around in his sleep, groaning and breathing heavily. He mumbles something about gas and the Fritz, but Geoffrey can’t make out any more than that. He sits up, not knowing if he should wake him from the nightmare, but he’d rather not take any risks. He watches Jonathan for a while, unsure of what he should do, but when he sees his face contort in pain or fear, he puts an arm around his trembling body, pulling him close. “You’re safe, Jonathan,” he whispers, “there’s no Fritzes here, no gas, you’re fine.” He keeps talking quietly until Jonathan’s body gradually relaxes, but when the nightmare is over, he still doesn’t let go. Instead he moves even closer, enjoying the feeling of the Ekon’s cool skin on his own. He’d very much like to caress Reid but doesn’t dare, even though he knows that the other man is fast asleep. He knows that if he starts, he won’t be able to stop and…

He groans exasperatedly, wondering how the hell he got here. When he first met the leech in Swansea’s office, he had be captivated but he’d also hated the man with all his guts – not because of _who_ but of _what_ he was. He’d been convinced that a bloodsucker in a hospital was a straight road to carnage; even when he’d seen Reid help everyone rather than stacking up a body count, he couldn’t believe that he was any better than the rest of those creepy bastards. And then of course his bloody exquisite politeness made Geoffrey’s blood boil even more. Whenever he’d come across Reid, he’d distrusted the man with every fibre of his body – so much that he hadn’t noticed when his feelings began to change. He isn’t entirely sure what he feels for the leech now, but the way Jonathan had got past his guard… Geoffrey hadn’t wanted – or expected – anyone to get that close to him ever again, let alone a fuckin’ bloodsucker. But here he is, sharing his bed with one, and _liking_ it. Too tired to dwell on the thought any longer, he drifts back to sleep, still holding Jonathan close.

‘Now who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves,’ Jonathan thinks to himself when he wakes up in the evening. He doesn’t move, afraid he might wake the hunter up, and he’d hate him to withdraw the heavy warmth of his arm across his belly. Geoffrey is snoring quietly, his face so close to Jonathan’s shoulder that he can feel the stubble of McCullum’s beard. He watches the hypnotising stream of blood pulsing through the carotid artery, just beneath the soft skin of his throat. Jonathan licks his lips – not because he wants to feed, even though he is quite hungry, but because he knows he’s never tasted anything like the hunter’s blood, and he wants to taste it again. He longs to run his tongue along that artery, taking in the sweet smell and taste of Geoffrey’s skin. He understands now what Elisabeth meant when she said he shouldn’t try to fight this desire because it was pointless anyway. He wonders what Geoffrey will do once he finds out but going by how he doesn’t seem to mind being _very_ close to the Ekon, he might not kill him after all. Jonathan grins to himself, then turns to lie on his side, grabbing Geoffrey’s arm to press it against his chest, careful not to touch the spot where his fangs had injured the hunter. He should probably get up, go back to Pembroke, they must be missing him, but he much rather just stays right where he is, tucked safely in McCullum’s embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some vulkods, a visit to the Turquoise Turtle, a drunk Geoffrey McCullum (yes, again) and plans for a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for misused tenses (and other grammatical and lexical shortcomings). Plus I wrote this on a train ride drunk and stoned, so, yeah...

“Sir, is everything all right?”

Geoffrey looks up, confused at seeing one of his men looking at him with a worried face. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I just wanted to know if you’re going on patrol tonight.”

“Yeah, I need to check on the sewers, there’s been reports about leeches roaming the tunnels near the docks.”

“Will you be going alone?”

“Hm-m. I just want to see what’s going on there, that’s all.”

The other man shrugs, knowing that once McCullum decided on something, no matter how reckless or dangerous, it is all but impossible to make him change his mind. Besides, it isn’t unusual that their leader goes on patrol alone, and he is well capable of defending himself. “I’ll leave you to it then, Sir.”

Geoffrey nods absentmindedly. He hadn’t lied about wanting to see what the leeches in the sewers are up to, but it isn’t the whole truth. There really is only one leech he’s interested in. He kept bumping into Reid when he was out on patrol the past few weeks, and Geoffrey is pretty sure that their meetings weren’t entirely coincidental; on the contrary, Reid seemed to be waiting around for him just as much as he was hoping to come across him.

Closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, he thinks back to the day Jonathan spent at Priwen headquarters, sleeping in his bed. He’d woken up holding Reid close, his face buried in the leech’s neck, and even though he’d feared his body’s reaction to the closeness, he didn’t want to let go. Jonathan was holding him, too, his arm pressed to his chest. He knew Jonathan was awake, as it was dark outside already.

_“Won’t they be worried at the Pembroke?” he asks him._

_“They probably are, but I’d rather stay here a little longer,” Jonathan replies at once, fully awake and disarmingly honest. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be getting up?”_

_“Fred is taking care of everything.” Geoffrey hesitates. “You won’t make me regret this, Reid, will you? I did invite you to Priwen HQ, so I suspect you can come and go as you wish now and…”_

_Jonathan turns around. “Is that an offer?”_

_“What… no?!” Geoffrey exclaims. Cheeky bugger, that leech. “It’s just…”_

_“I get it, McCullum. I’m grateful that you helped me, I really am. And I promise I won’t do anything… leechy in your lair. I won’t break in and I won’t come here to feed on your men, I swear I won’t.” He looks at Geoffrey, realising how close the hunter is to him. What is he even doing here, lying in bed with another man, and only in his underpants?! Still, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, and neither of them seems to have the urge to move away from each other._

_“Did I misbehave in my sleep?” Jonathan enquires, half-heartedly trying to change the subject._

_“You had a nightmare. S’pose it was about the war.”_

_“Did I… did I hug you?” Jonathan is clearly embarrassed._

_“No, you didn’t. I did,” Geoffrey says, too tired to speak between the lines. “I was afraid to wake you up, but I had to comfort you somehow, didn’t I.”_

_“Thank you.” Jonathan swallows hard. “Would you mind doing that again?”_

_“Doing what again?”_

_“Holding me, just for a minute or two.” Jonathan blushes and drops his gaze._

_“You’re not having a nightmare now, though,” Geoffrey says, wanting to punch himself in the face the moment he says it, because he’d be more than happy to oblige._

_“Mmno, not right now. But to tell you the truth, McCullum, this whole existence feels like a bloody nightmare, you know?”_

_“Why?” Geoffrey asks. He really wants to know, he’d somehow always assumed that leeches liked doing their leechy stuff, drinking blood, swooshing around in the darkness and all that._

_Jonathan snorts, then he sobers, his eyes getting a distant look. “The woman your guard caught me feeding on the night I was re-born… She was my younger sister, Mary.” It takes him a long time until he manages to continue. “When I woke up in that pit, dead bodies all around me, I was blind with hunger and thirst, I didn’t know where I was, what was happening to me… I couldn’t see properly, just that… pulsating hazy red and darkness and shadows… I didn’t know what I was doing when I bit Mary, I didn’t even know it was her…” He stops again. “I am cursed, McCullum.”_

_“I am very sorry about your sisters,” Geoffrey is so shocked he doesn’t really know what to reply. “Come here.” He pulls Jonathan close, putting his arms around him. For a short moment he wonders if his neck might be in danger now as he feels the vampire’s face on his shoulder, his beard against his throat, but he quickly discards the thought. “You’re not cursed,” he says. “You stopped the fuckin’ disaster, right? People_ like _you, because you’re a good man, Reid. How could you be cursed? Besides, I guess, if you were, you couldn’t be almost as good at killing leeches as me!” he grins, earning a small laughter from Jonathan._

_“Almost as good as you? I defeated you, McCullum, remember?”_

_“Nah, I actually don’t remember that,” Geoffrey teases, “that must have been another of your nightmares.” Before Jonathan can reply anything, he pushes him back onto the mattress. “You can sleep here as long as you like, I’ll be right here,” he whispers, lying down next to the Ekon and putting an arm across his chest._

Geoffrey wakes from his reverie.

It had been comforting and easy with Jonathan, though there hadn’t been anything sexual between them that night. Lately, however, their meetings seem to be charged more and more with a strange tension that Geoffrey cannot, or won’t, explain. Even as he’s thinking of Reid now, he feels a growing tightness in his trousers and a pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body.

He gets up. Fresh air will help dispel the thoughts and the longing. And he might even be lucky, finding Reid somewhere around the docks.

* * *

Geoffrey doesn’t particularly like going into the sewers, mainly because there’s no quick way out and it’s always dark in there. The fuckin’ bloodsuckers are also much less shy in that place. Maybe he really shouldn’t have gone alone, he thinks, but turning back at the iron gate leading into the underground isn’t something McCullum would do.

Making his way through the tunnels, he wonders at how quiet they are. There are a few rats scurrying around in the muddy drain water but no other signs of life – or unlife. He is just about to turn back, slightly disappointed at having found nothing, when he hears a sound coming from one of the tunnels leading deeper into the maze beneath the city. It’s a low growl, a sound from an animal in pain. Except it isn’t in pain, Geoffrey quickly discovers, when he comes across two vulkods feeding on a body. They’re disgusting bastards, dressed elegantly but covered in blood and gore from head to toe, digging through the entrails of some unfortunate citizen. Geoffrey nearly throws up at the sight.

He tries to tell himself to turn away; two vulkods is more than he’s ready to fight, but when one of them sinks his fangs in their victim’s flesh anew, ripping the skin and growling with rage and lust, it’s more than Geoffrey can take. He aims his crossbow at his head, shooting two arrows in quick succession, drawing his sword at the same time. They find their target and the vulkod shrieks in pain, but other than that he isn’t too impressed by the two arrows lodged in his neck. ‘Christ, what a tough fucker,’ Geoffrey thinks as he closes the distance to the injured beast, slicing his sword across its chest and shoulder. The vulkod screams again, baring his bloody teeth, ready to jump the hunter. The second vulkod is hissing angrily, bloodshot eyes fixed on his new prey. Luckily for McCullum, their movements are sluggish; if he just manages to evade their punches and claws, he can get out unscathed.

And, to his own surprise, he nearly does, except for a slash across his face and two on his right chest. The cuts burn like hell, and Geoffrey huffs angrily. He needs a drink, he decides, giving one of the dead vulkods a kick as he leaves. The way back to the docks seems longer, and Geoffrey is exhausted from the fight. Sweat is running down his forehead and temples, and he wipes it away with his sleeve. The moisture feels pleasant once he leaves the sewers and steps into the fresh night outside. It’s already getting late, the moon is hanging low, bathing the docks and the river in a ghostly warm light. Not too late for a drink at the Turquoise Turtle, though, that’s for sure.

Geoffrey is disappointed that he didn’t meet Reid and half hopes to find him at the bar, but apart from an unusually drunk Dyson Delaney the place has no customers. Good thing Booth Digby is nowhere to be seen, or any other of those Wet Boot buggers; tonight, their sheer existence pisses Geoffrey off, though he wouldn’t exactly mind if one of them gave him an excuse to get his knuckles bloody.

“Evening, Tom,” he says as he steps up to the bar. “Whisky, please.”

Tom pours him a glass, giving him a thoughtful look. “You’ve got blood on your face. D’you get in a fight?”

It’s none of Tom’s business, but Geoffrey answers anyway, trying to be as polite as he can – it would be too early to be thrown out of the bar just yet. “Aye, fuckin’ bloodsuckers still hidin’ everywhere in the sewers.”

Tom nods. He’s heard the stories, not really sure what to make of them. But McCullum does look like death warmed up, and he’s not usually the one to take a beating. Besides, he knows that lots of strange things have been going on, not just during the time of the epidemic.

“Need any help?” he asks. “You can go wash upstairs, if you like.”

Geoffrey empties the glass in one gulp. “I will, thanks. And I’ll have another Scotch, please.”

When McCullum comes back down the stairs, his heart skips a beat. Leaning on the bar is none other than Dr Jonathan Reid.

“Evening, McCullum,” Jonathan says, turning slowly to give Geoffrey a smile. “Busy night?”

“What do you care?” he replies gruffly, not wanting the barkeeper to notice their familiarity.

“Well, I thought you might need medical assistance.”

“I don’t.” He could have used some assistance earlier, fighting the two beasts in the sewer, though if Jonathan had come to help him, he would certainly have pretended to be offended by it, telling him he could bloody well look after himself.

“Anything serious?” Jonathan asks, although he can sense that the cuts have already stopped bleeding.

“Two bloody vulkods, would you fuckin’ believe it?”

Jonathan does, even though he knows the bastards usually hunt alone.

They are interrupted by the barkeeper. “Doctor Reid! Good to have you back!” he exclaims when he sees his new customer. “Doin’ yer rounds again? What can I get you?”

“I’ll have what he has.” Jonathan points to Geoffrey’s glass, which gets him a surprised look from the hunter. Since when do leeches drink anything but blood?! Jonathan gives him a smile, and when Tom turns around to get a glass, he leans towards Geoffrey, whispering: “I can’t _drink_ it, but I can still smell and taste it. And I like it.”

When the drink arrives, Geoffrey pushes his own glass forward for a refill. He empties it in one swallow, then, from the corner of his eyes, watches as Jonathan holds the glass to his lips, letting the liquid touch the skin. He licks his lips, feeling the alcohol burn on the tip of his tongue before he tastes the drink. It’s good whisky, he has to admit – maybe that’s one of the reasons why Tom has managed to keep the Turquoise Turtle neutral ground, as nobody would want to risk losing access to his quality booze.

Jonathan wishes he could drink what he’s got in his glass, but he knows that he can’t keep it down anyway, and it would be a waste of good Scotch. “Want to finish mine, too?” he offers instead, turning to Geoffrey.

McCullum does, downing it without hesitation. “Thanks, doctor.”

The booze is already taking its toll on his senses, Geoffrey realises, when he catches himself wishing that he could also taste Reid on the glass. He wonders how late it is and whether they might have enough time to do something stupid.

“Fancy another trip to the museum tonight?” he slurs, trying to keep his voice down.

“With you? Of course, I do,” Jonathan replies more enthusiastically than intended. He’s well aware of Geoffrey being drunk already but nevertheless happy at the offer. “But it’s getting late, and I should return to Pembroke.”

“Blimey, yes, the time, I forgo’ ‘bout t’ time.” He gives Jonathan a look that has the Ekon’s heartbeat increase considerably, then he turns around. “Oi, Tom! I’ll have another one,” he shouts.

Jonathan rolls his eyes at Tom as the barkeeper comes over. “No, he won’t,” he says, turning to Geoffrey. “You’ve had quite enough.”

“Haven’t,” Geoffrey mumbles stubbornly.

“Yes, you have. Your senses are already blunt like one of your rookie’s knives. Now come on, I’ll get you home.”

“Priwen’s knives are always sharp!” Geoffrey exhales, trying to sound annoyed.

“Whatever.” Jonathan rolls his eyes again, pays for the drinks and then shoves Geoffrey towards the door, nodding to Tom. The barkeeper shakes his head in wonder as he watches the two men leave the Turquoise Turtle. How anyone could want to spend time drinking with the leader of the Priwen Guard is beyond him. Or rather, spend time watching him drink. A strange pair they are, for sure, Tom thinks, shaking his head again before turning to drying the glasses that Sabrina has washed.

Jonathan closes the door behind them, and for a moment they just stand outside the pub, silently taking in the cool night air. Now that the epidemic is clearly abating, the borough seems peaceful, even though Jonathan knows perfectly well it isn’t. He checks his watch, making sure he will have enough time to escort the drunk hunter back to Priwen headquarters before dawn. “Let’s get you home,” he says, putting a hand on Geoffrey’s back, pushing him gently.

This time, the hunter doesn’t protest, letting himself be guided by the Ekon. He has no idea where he is going anyway and barely cares to watch his step, feeling safe and comfortable in Jonathan’s presence. The whisky has clearly taken its toll and he finds himself unable to battle the emotions that are surfacing. “Jonathan…,” he gasps.

The Ekon stops dead in his tracks. It’s the first time he’s ever heard McCullum use his first name. He looks at the hunter, who is struggling to keep his balance and grabbing Jonathan’s sleeve to steady himself.

“Jonathan, I’m sorry…” Geoffrey trails off, not knowing exactly what he’s sorry for, except the piss drunk state he’s in, making it hard for him to control himself. Then, with no warning, surprising even himself, he leans in, pressing his lips hard against Jonathan’s. At least he’s sober enough not to miss Reid’s mouth – and to notice that the other man doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss, parting his lips willingly to let in Geoffrey’s tongue.

Jonathan can’t help but close his eyes and pull Geoffrey towards him when he feels his tongue on his own, careful that his fangs won’t hurt the other man. The taste of whisky lingering in the hunter’s mouth makes Jonathan moan in pleasure and he roughly pushes the hunter against a wall to offer them both some stability, for his knees are as weak from the flutter in his guts as Geoffrey’s are from the booze. He puts a hand around McCullum’s neck, deepening the kiss. He knows he’ll never get enough of the hunter, not after this.

Geoffrey is the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. Groaning, he leans against Jonathan. He feels dizzy, less from the alcohol than from Jonathan. He wants to say something but stumbles over the words, managing only an inarticulate groan. He buries his face in the Ekon’s shirt, taking in his smell, when Jonathan gently lifts his chin, kissing him again, his tongue deep in Geoffrey’s mouth.

Again, Geoffrey breaks the kiss, panting heavily. “I want you, Reid. Very much.” The hoarse words whispered dirtily against Jonathan’s ear are out before Geoffrey can stop himself.

It takes Jonathan a moment to take in that admission. “But not here,” he finally groans, “and not now. It’ll be morning soon and…”

“…I wouldn’t want you to burn to a crisp,” Geoffrey finishes his sentence. “After all, you’re my favourite leech, huntin’d be so boring without you out there.” A mischievous smile crosses the hunter’s face as he challengingly looks directly at Jonathan, sinking into those eerie, grey eyes.

“How about dinner at friend’s place tomorrow?” Jonathan asks.

“Tomorrow?”

“Well, in about half a day?”

“Dinner? I don’t want dinner, I want _you_!”

“Dinner and… whatever you want,” Jonathan offers.

“ _Whatever_ I want?” Geoffrey grins again.

“Uh… yeah?”

“What friend?”

“Does it matter? Look, just meet me at Lady Asbury’s place tomorrow at eight, all right?”

“Lady Ashbury’s place?!”

It’s the only place Jonathan can think of to let Geoffrey do whatever he wants to do to him. They can’t meet at Pembroke, Swansea’s right next door with his vampiric sense of hearing, and one never knows when one of the nurses or doctors decides to ask him for help or something, bursting into his office. His own home isn’t an option either, as his dear mother will have a heart attack if her Johnny disappears into his bedroom with another man. And Priwen isn’t really tempting either, even though Geoffrey does have a very comfortable bed. Jonathan assumes that his men stumble into Geoffrey’s office just as carelessly as the Pembroke staff, and he’d hate to be caught, and in their HQ of all places, doing something unsavoury to their leader. Lady Ashbury, on the other hand, is eager to meet Geoffrey personally anyway, and she owes him more than one favour.

“Yes, Lady Ashbury’s place. Do you know where it is?”

Geoffrey nods.

“You’ll be there?” Jonathan asks anxiously. Lord knows what Geoffrey will remember once the effect of the Scotch has worn off.

“I will,” Geoffrey promises, voice husky with desire.

“All right, let’s get you home then so you get some sleep before tomorrow evening,” Jonathan says, dragging the drunk McCullum along to deliver him at the gates of Priwen headquarters.

* * *

“You what?!” Elisabeth stares at Jonathan in surprise. At least it’s not the face of horror she usually wears when Jonathan tells her something about the Geoffrey McCullum. Then she bursts into laughter. “Goodness, Jonathan, I didn’t know it was _that_ serious!” She seems genuinely pleased.

“I don’t know if it is,” Jonathan blushes.

“Yes, you do.” She sighs. “I told you, Jonathan, blood doesn’t lie. We can’t help it.”

“So you don’t mind?”

“No, not really. I said my door is always open, and I meant it. And I guess it goes for your friends, too, even if they’re the bloody leader of the Guard of Priwen.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Well, you have me… and you have the bloody leader of the Priwen Guard,” Elisabeth smiles. “Not too bad, I’d think. And I bet you do have a few more. You do know that, do you?” She looks at him intently.

Jonathan swallows, then he nods.

“I’ll ask Charlotte to make dinner and I’ll have a bedroom ready for you in case you plan to stay,” she offers.

“I really appreciate it, Elisabeth. I’ll be here tonight as soon as it’s dark.” He is just about to leave when he turns back once more. “You really don’t have to ask Charlotte to make dinner.”

“Oh, I know she’d love to! Even if it’s just to be introduced to your… to Mr McCullum.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date at Lady Ashbury’s… aaaaaand staying there overnight (and some more).

This must be the stupidest thing – by far – he’s ever done in his life, Geoffrey thinks. He’s still slightly hung over and thirsty as hell, but he remembers every details of the previous night. Dinner date with a leech... ‘Great job, McCullum,’ he groans and forces himself to get up. He checks his watch, relieved to find that he ought to hurry if he wants to be at Lady Ashbury’s place at eight. He’s afraid that if he had the chance to think about this properly, he might change his mind, and he really doesn’t want to.

He brushes his teeth and takes his time to wash the previous evening off him, even washes his hair, making sure to be clean from head to toe. While pondering what he should wear for that dinner date, he pours himself a whisky, downing it in one gulp. It helps with the nervousness. He has a good idea of how Lady Ashbury lives and would hate to leave a bad first impression. Still, he’s a Priwen hunter, not some fancy gentleman, so he goes for the only clean pair of trousers left and a white linen shirt and then does his best to brush the dust and dirt off his boots and coat. He should have it cleaned properly one of these days, but there is hardly any blood on it and it doesn’t smell, so it’ll do.

He gives himself one last sceptical look in the mirror and buckles his belt before leaving his room; although he doesn’t expect to come across any leeches on his way to the West End, he sure as hell won’t go anyplace unarmed. He holsters a pistol and a knife but leaves the sword and the crossbow – after all, he can’t show up at the Ashbury mansion looking like he’s going to war.

Thankfully he doesn’t run into any of his men on the way to Lady Ashbury’s. It’s raining and there are only few people in the streets, going about their own business and not minding Geoffrey’s. He arrives at the mansion on time, but when he gets to the door, he stops and hesitates, thinking of turning back before it’s too late.

‘Bollocks,’ he thinks to himself, ‘this can’t be worse than the fuckin’ sewers,’ before forcing himself to ring the bell. It sounds awfully loud into the night, he finds, turning his head to make sure nobody sees him waiting. He hears footsteps approaching, and the door is opened. He’s expecting a servant, but it’s a young woman who greets him.

“Good evening!” she says. “You must be Mr McCullum. I am Charlotte Ashbury.”

“How do you do, Miss Ashbury.” He bows slightly, feeling uncomfortable. He knows his nervousness is showing.

And, of course, it doesn’t escape Charlotte, although she pretends not to notice. “How do you do, Mr McCullum.”

He’s a rugged man, clearly not used to fancy company, but very much unlike the brute she expected the leader of the Priwen Guard to be – although, truth be told, a brute would never do for Jonathan. “Please, come in, Dr Reid is expecting you.” Seeing him blush, she chuckles and puts a hand over her mouth. “Goodness, I did make that sound like a medical appointment, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” She steps aside, bidding him to come in.

Miss Ashbury’s warm reception does help him relax a bit – not least because she clearly isn’t one of them bloodsuckers – but he’s so astonished by the exquisitely decorated home that he doesn’t really know what to say, uneasily standing in the hallway.

“Sir, may I?” Charlotte repeats her question, stretching out a hand to take his coat.

God, he wishes he had taken another drink before coming here. He’s anxious to see Reid, yet at the same time very unsure what he’s even doing here. For a split second he considers running out but then he takes off his coat and hands it to Charlotte, nodding his thanks and giving her an awkward grin when she looks at the weapons on his belt. She doesn’t say anything, though, and Geoffrey doesn’t want to part with them anyway.

“Mr McCullum!” The familiar voice sends shivers down Geoffrey’s spine. He turns around, seeing Jonathan come down the stairs. Bloody leech must have sensed his unease, he growls inwardly, feeling his heartbeat speed up.

“Evening, Dr Reid,” he says, not certain how to act in front of Charlotte.

At least Reid’s face convinces him that the evening might not be a waste after all and not as bad an idea as he had feared earlier. The Ekon has an unusually human skin colour tonight, and the bulge in his crotch indicates an increased blood flow not only to his face. Geoffrey takes his outstretched hand, gripping it a tad too hard. It’s not a game of power, he’s just excited.

“I’m very glad you’ve come,” Jonathan says, not wanting to lose the touch of Geoffrey’s hand.

“Well, I promised I would, didn’t I,” Geoffrey replies gruffly.

“How’s your head, speaking of which?” Jonathan enquires somewhat non-sequitur, thankful that Charlotte disappears to the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s fine. I wasn’t _that_ drunk, you know.” Geoffrey gives him a strangely expectant look. He certainly had been _that_ drunk but doesn’t want Reid to think that he regrets the outcome of his intoxication. In fact, his desire is even stronger now that he’s sober.

“I’m happy to hear it. Does that,” Jonathan nods at the cut across the hunter’s face, “still hurt?”

“Nah,” Geoffrey shakes his head, “it’s all right.” He raises an eyebrow. “Make me ugly?”

“You mean even more than usual?” Jonathan retorts, careful to hide a smile. “Why, no! You look fabulous with it.” He bites his bottom lip. Geoffrey looks good indeed tonight, and he smells even better. The Ekon flares his nostrils, taking in the hunter’s clean scent.

“Well, uh, are you going to devour me right here and now or can we have dinner first?” Geoffrey purses his lips, delighted by the way Reid is flirting with him. “I am really hungry,” he admits.

Jonathan blushes, aware of the growing tightness in his trousers, which he knows Geoffrey can’t fail to notice. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he smiles apologetically, “dinner is what I promised, didn’t I.”

“Uh-hu. Honestly though,” Geoffrey clears his throat, “I’m more looking forward to dessert.” He demonstratively licks his lips, looking Jonathan directly in the eyes, and gives him a sly grin. He likes seeing the effect he has on the vampire. “I could do with a drink first, though.”

“Of course.” Jonathan is grateful for the change of topic. “Elisabeth has an excellent selection of that. He puts a hand on Geoffrey’s back to lead the hunter to the drawing room. “Just make sure you’re sober enough for that dessert afterwards,” he whispers. “Elisabeth,” he says aloud, “I’d like you to meet Geoffrey McCullum.”

Geoffrey is more than surprised by her appearance. He has seen her before, but never up close. It’s not that he expected a vile creature exactly, but certainly someone creepier than this beautiful young woman. It’s obvious to him that she is a leech, but, just like Reid, she isn’t like any other leech he’s ever met. And he likes her red hair and green eyes at once, they remind him of his childhood home.

“Pleased to finally meet you, Mr McCullum,” she says, and to his surprise stretches out her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She gives him a warm, albeit somewhat cheeky smile.

Geoffrey takes her hand, careful this time not to press it too hard. “How do you do, Lady Ashbury.” He shoots Jonathan a quick glance. “I hope nothing too horrible?” It’s not a rhetorical question.

She laughs. “Actually, yes,” adding, after a pause, “but not from Jonathan.”

Well, that’s comforting. They both look at Jonathan, who coughs slightly, hiding his embarrassment. “I promised Geoffrey a drink, may I?” he says, quickly turning away.

Oh, so it’s first names now, Geoffrey notes. Lady Ashbury must be a very close friend then. He smiles to himself as he watches Jonathan pour him a drink. Still, it’s a tad awkward, considering that he isn’t used to calling Reid by his given name. The Scotch is good, though, and Geoffrey realises that despite himself he doesn’t feel uneasy in the presence of the two bloodsuckers, so when Charlotte comes into the room to announce that dinner is served, he’s quite happy to have accepted Reid’s invitation.

It’s already late at night when Charlotte leaves the table, saying that she has to distribute some leaflets.

Weird time to be distributing leaflets, Geoffrey thinks, but over the course of the evening he’s already realised that Charlotte is no ordinary girl. “Thank you very much for that delicious dinner, Miss Ashbury.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr McCullum,” she replies. “If you plan to stay overnight, I’ll make breakfast, too.”

“Charlotte!” Elisabeth exclaims, but her daughter just shrugs and leaves the room, bidding them a good night.

“I’m sorry, Mr McCullum, she is a bit too straightforward sometimes,” Elisabeth says apologetically, ignoring a snort from Jonathan.

“’s all right,” Geoffrey grins, then gets up, excusing himself to take a leak.

“I hate to admit it,” Elisabeth says when the door closes behind him, “but I like McCullum. I really won’t mind if you stay here with him.”

Jonathan swallows hard, blushing again. He can’t hide anything from the other Ekon, not his racing heart, not his arousal. It is why they came here in the first place, isn’t it?

“Honestly, my dear, it’s fine.” She sees his hesitation. “Look, Jonathan, I’ve been around for… well, quite a while, and I’ve seen a lot. So, forgive me for being blunt, but,” she sighs, “I can see that you like him, and he likes you. A lot. You see, we vampires might have all the time in the world, but we don’t get too many chances for happiness, so you ought to make the best of every opportunity.” At his concerned look, she gives him a laugh. “I certainly won’t judge you, Jonathan, so… _carpe noctem_ ,” she winks, getting a hearty laugh from Jonathan.

“Thank you.” Jonathan nods his appreciation, then gets up to look for McCullum. “Good night, Elisabeth.”

He bumps into the hunter in the hallway.

“Wha… Reid, you’re not leaving, are ye?” Geoffrey looks genuinely disappointed.

“No,” Jonathan grins, “I wanted to ask you whether you’d like some dessert.”

“What do you mean… dessert?” The hunter gives him a confused look.

“I mean,” Jonathan pushes the other man to the wall and kisses him hard, “ _dessert_. Want some?” he breathes against Geoffrey’s ear.

Geoffrey gasps. “You have no idea how much, Reid.” He grabs the Ekon by the shirt and pulls him close so he can kiss him back. His heart is racing, and his trousers are getting unbearably tight. “I want you, Jonathan, right now.” He holds the other man close, placing soft kisses on his neck until Jonathan moans with pleasure, moving against him.

“Not here,” Jonathan pants and drags the hunter with him to the bedroom Elisabeth prepared. “After you,” he says as he opens the door.

Geoffrey rolls his eyes. “You can’t even turn that off, can you?” he asks tauntingly.

Jonathan gives him a wry smile, but he still waits.

“Wait, it’s not like you need an invitation, is it?” Geoffrey asks suspiciously.

“No, I don’t,” Jonathan laughs. “Though, come to think of it, I _like_ being invited by you,” he teases.

Geoffrey raises an eyebrow. “Do you now, huh! You know, I think you’re just nervous as hell and don’t know how to do shite, right?” he grins, then he steps into the room. The fireplace is burning, so he doesn’t turn on the light. For a moment he studies Jonathan’s face, noticing a shade of red on the Ekon’s cheeks, then he steps aside, holding the door open. “Come on in then,” he says, not bothering with a fancy invitation. His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat as Jonathan enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’re right,” Jonathan says, clearly embarrassed, “I don’t know how to do shite.”

Geoffrey laughs. “It’s all right, just let me do it then.” He leans in to Jonathan. “I can be a gentleman, y’know?” he whispers, then he puts one hand on Jonathan’s neck to pull him close, brushing his lips against Jonathan’s for a tender kiss.

A low moan escapes Jonathan. Closing his eyes, he concentrates on the warm lips touching his own, the stubble of Geoffrey’s beard, then the moist tip of his tongue as his lips part. Now that all the blood seems to be heating up his nether regions, there is none left to keep his brain working. At least that’s what it feels like when Geoffrey’s pushes his tongue into his mouth. Good thing he took precautions and fed on enough rats to be able to retract his fangs, though he doubts Geoffrey would be thrilled if he knew.

As if he’s read his thoughts, the hunter breaks the kiss. “Now I don’t know what you ate last and I sure as hell don’t want to know, but you taste _very_ delicious, leech,” he rasps.

Jonathan gives him a low chuckle. “Hmm, well, I like your taste in whisky. And I love what you’re doing to me, McCullum,” he admits almost against his will.

“Hmm-m,” Geoffrey purrs, looking down, “I can see that.” He bites his lower lip and begins to unbutton Jonathan’s shirt. “Wasn’t sure you’d be capable of that, as a leech,” he teases, grinning as he succeeds in making the other man blush even more. He leans in to kiss Jonathan again, harder this time, getting a moan of pleasure from the Ekon. He takes off Jonathan’s shirt and as his hands roam over his body, Geoffrey is surprised at how alive he feels despite his cool skin. And he smells _good_. Groaning, he kisses Jonathan’s throat, gently sucking on the sensitive skin, moving down to the collarbone and over the pectoral muscle until his lips close around a nipple. As he flicks his tongue across the hardened flesh, sucking and biting gently, he feels the Ekon’s rock-hard crotch move against his own, while Jonathan fondles his hair. “Want you,” Geoffrey groans huskily, then he pulls Jonathan away from the door and pushes him towards the bed and onto the mattress.

He unfastens his belt, carefully putting the weapons on the ground, then he takes off his own shirt with one swift move and leans over Jonathan to unbuckle his belt and pull off his shoes, socks and trousers. He watches Jonathan blissfully bite his lips, moaning softly, when he makes his way back up, trailing kisses along the Ekon’s calves and thighs, his belly and chest. Straddling Jonathan between his legs, he kisses him again, pushing his tongue deep into the other man’s mouth. He loves the feeling of Jonathan’s tongue rubbing eagerly against his, the soft lips and the tickle of his beard.

“Geoffrey, I can’t take much more of this,” Jonathan groans as he breaks the kiss, panting heavily. He reaches down to tug on Geoffrey’s trousers but doesn’t get anywhere, so he frustratedly grabs his buttocks instead.

“We’ll have to do something about that then,” Geoffrey chuckles, then he moves further down again, pulling Jonathan’s pants down slowly, freeing his hard dick.

The sight of the hunter between his legs is almost too much for Jonathan, and when Geoffrey grabs his manhood and begins running his tongue along the shaft, he can’t help but moan loudly, thrusting his hips into the touch. He closes his eyes when Geoffrey’s lips close around his dick, taking him deep into the wet heat of his mouth, sucking and pressing his tongue against the sensitive flesh, moving up and down, his hand following suit. He gently grabs Geoffrey’s hair, lest he remove that delicious mouth, writhing with pleasure at the hunter’s obvious affection. He growls when he comes, like a large animal, then the growl turns into a hoarse cry and finally a whimper, as he spurts his cum down Geoffrey’s throat.

“That was fast,” the hunter chuckles. Jonathan trembles, breathing hard. Geoffrey has never seen him like this, so full of abandon, vulnerable and desirable.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice so husky it’s barely audible.

“Don’t be,” Geoffrey whispers, “it was beautiful to watch you come.” He takes off his boots and trousers, then moves up to lie next to Jonathan, pulling him into a close embrace. “I don’t think I can ever get enough of you, Jonathan. I want you… very much.”

“Hmm,” Jonathan mumbles, so spent he’s unable to move. He can already feel the weight of the dawn outside. “Close the curtains, please?” he begs.

Geoffrey chuckles. “Your stamina seemed much better in the attic,” he teases, then he gets up to draw the heavy curtains.

“I’m really sorry,” Jonathan looks embarrassed.

“Shhh, I told you it’s okay.” Geoffrey whispers and kisses him gently, pulling up Jonathan’s underpants.

“You know,” Jonathan says in a quiet, almost hurt voice, “when I met you in Swansea’s office, I never dreamt that you’d be the first to make love to me.” He places a palm on Geoffrey’s face, brushing his fingers against his cheek, careful not to touch the cut.

“I’m the first to make love to you?” Geoffrey asks, astonished. Then he grins. “Well, Johnny, it was my pleasure. And trust me, I’m not done yet. But don’t worry,” he adds, kissing Jonathan again, “I’ll let you sleep a bit before continuing, all right?”

Jonathan grunts contentedly. “Hmm, I’ll hold you to that promise. But… what about you now?”

“What about me?”

“You didn’t finish.”

“No, I didn’t. But it’s all right.” And it is, Geoffrey isn’t even frustrated by it. There’ll be enough time for that later. He pulls the blanket up, covering both Jonathan and himself. He snuggles close to the Ekon and puts an arm around him. “Sleep well, leech,” he whispers, planting a gentle kiss on the nape of Jonathan’s neck, but the other man is already asleep.

* * *

Jonathan wakes up first. Geoffrey is lying on his stomach, snoring softly, face turned towards him. Maybe he should get up, wash, eat a few rats, but all he really wants to do is be right here, next to Geoffrey McCullum. He stretches out a hand, dreamily stroking the hunter’s tousled hair, then moves down his neck and over his back. Geoffrey, too, sports a few impressive scars, Jonathan realises, when he slides his hand further down and under the blanket to caress the hunter’s buttocks.

“Wha’ ye doin’?” Geoffrey mumbles, half opening an eye to look at Jonathan.

“Well…,” Jonathan begins, leaning over to kiss Geoffrey on the shoulder, “I’m hungry and I was just wondering where I should bite you.” He smiles innocently.

“Hungry, huh!” Geoffrey groans. “So am I, but there’s no reason to be so creepy about it.”

“I’m a leech, how could I not be creepy?” He kisses Geoffrey again, putting his lips on his neck and biting him very gently, making sure not to hurt him.

Geoffrey moans with pleasure, wondering for a split second how Reid manages to resist the urge to drink despite the hunger. He’s just about to give him an appropriate answer when there’s a knock on the door.

“Mr McCullum, I made you some breakfast,” Charlotte’s voice sounds through the door. “I’ll leave it here, in case you’re hungry.”

Jonathan senses her leave, not waiting for an answer, and he gets up to see what she brought.

“I could get used to that,” Geoffrey mumbles when Jonathan comes back to the bed with a tray of food. Charlotte made tea, and there’s scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and bread.

“You’re not in a hurry to get away, are you?” Jonathan asks, as Geoffrey sits up and places the tray on his thighs to eat.

“No, why?”

“Just… _I_ am not expected back at the Pembroke anytime soon.”

Geoffrey grins, seeing Jonathan blush. “Don’t worry, Reid, Priwen can do without their leader for a while, so… we can take our time.”

“Good,” Jonathan says and gets up to go and wash while Geoffrey is busy with his food. There’s a bathroom next room, there’s even warm water and a tub. He doesn’t bother closing the door, not after last night, and he knows Geoffrey is watching when he takes off his pants. Looking at himself in the mirror, Jonathan can’t help but grin – he might look like a stiff, but he’s certainly never felt that alive. He doesn’t hurry with the wash, so when he’s finally drying himself off, Geoffrey has finished eating. He senses the hunter walking up to him from behind.

“So, you’re hungry?” Geoffrey whispers and puts his hands on Jonathan’s waist, placing a kiss on his neck. “How about some breakfast?”

Jonathan turns around, facing the hunter. “Geoffrey, please don’t make fun of it. It’s…”

“I’m not making fun of it,” Geoffrey interrupts him. “I’m serious.” He places a hand on Jonathan’s face, brushing a thumb across his cheek, then he leans in to kiss him. He’s aware that the Ekon isn’t wearing anything, and he likes the way Jonathan is reacting to his touch.

“You can’t be,” Jonathan groans, his heart racing at the memory of the first time he fed on Geoffrey. “You’re playing with fire, McCullum.”

“And how do you think I became the leader of the Priwen Guard?”

“Well, since it can’t be for your good looks I’m guessing because you’re the best at catching leeches?”

“No,” Geoffrey laughs. “Because I know which fires are worth playing with.”

“Judging by your scars, you’ve had a few close calls though.”

The hunter shrugs, then a mischievous smile crosses his lips. “So I’m the best at catching leeches then?”

“You’ve caught me, haven’t you?”

“Oh, that was easy,” Geoffrey laughs again, pulling Jonathan close, one hand on his neck, the other on his buttocks. “Feed on me,” he rasps, his mouth close to the other man’s ear. “I trust you, I know you won’t kill me.”

“Geoffrey, I…”

“Bite me, wherever you want, Jonathan.”

The Ekon hesitates for a moment, then he growls, baring his fangs, and grabs the hunter. He no longer looks vulnerable, but intimidating and dangerous. If he didn’t know any better, Geoffrey’d be frightened by his display of power.

“You sure about this?” Jonathan asks.

Geoffrey nods, but before he can say anything, he’s lying on the bed, feeling dizzy. He gasps for air when Jonathan bends over him, straddling him between his legs and pinning his hands down next to his head. He closes his eyes when he feels the Ekon’s lips on his throat, thinking that the bite will come any moment.

But Jonathan has different plans. He runs his tongue along Geoffrey’s throat, taking in his tantalising scent, but he sure as hell won’t bite his neck. There’s too much blood, and too much pain. Moving his lips further down, he places kisses on the hunter’s collarbone and chest, tickled by the light patch of hair. He follows one of the recent cuts, where the scent of blood is more intense, then licks across a nipple and begins to suck on it until the hunter groans, grabbing Jonathan’s hair, writhing under him. He can feel McCullum’s growing erection against his belly, so he moves further down, caressing the muscled flesh leading to the navel and the patch of dark hair disappearing under the hem of the pants.

The smell of Geoffrey’s arousal is intoxicating, and Jonathan feels himself getting hard by it. He kisses the hunter’s hard dick through the cloth, then slowly pulls his pants down to his feet, taking them off. On his way back up, he runs his tongue along Geoffrey’s thighs, kissing and softly biting the flesh, which has the hunter’s moans grow louder. He takes his time to get to his genitals, but when his cool hands cup the balls and he runs his tongue along the shaft, Geoffrey’s hips buck, trying to get more of that touch.

“Fuck, Jonathan…,” he whimpers, grabbing Jonathan’s hair harder, his other hand roaming over his own chest and belly. He almost screams out when the Ekon’s lips close around his dick, taking in the whole length of hot flesh, and bites his lips, growling. He feels he’s already close to coming, when Jonathan stops and moves up, rubbing his chest and belly over Geoffrey’s slick erection until their dicks touch.

“You ready then?” the Ekon asks softly, before placing soft kisses on the hunter’s chest, pale eyes looking at him, full of desire. When Geoffrey nods, he opens his mouth and presses his fangs to the flesh until they break the skin and he draws blood. The hunter bites back a moan of pain, concentrating instead on where their hips touch, moving lightly against Jonathan.

The Ekon drinks slowly, savouring every drop of blood. Tasting McCullum while feeling his body grind against his own is quickly becoming too much for Jonathan, and he puts his hand between their bodies, grabbing both their dicks, moving his fist until he comes with a loud growl from deep within his chest. He throws his head back, lips covered in blood, semen spurting on Geoffrey’s belly.

The hunter is mesmerised by the sight, realising that very moment he has fallen for Jonathan, hard. The realisation hits him like a wave of heat, and he comes, the Ekon’s hand still around both their dicks.

When the vampire’s body slumps on top of his own, exhausted and panting hard, Geoffrey puts his arms and legs around him, pulling him into a tight embrace until he almost melts into the other’s body, too overwhelmed to say anything, stroking Jonathan’s back.

Jonathan loves the way Geoffrey is caressing him, how his calloused, strong hands, used to wielding a weapon, touch him so gently and lovingly. Moaning softly, he props himself up to lick the wound on the hunter’s chest until the blood stops flowing. He could do that all night, every night.

“Geoffrey,” he asks, sliding off the hunter’s body to lie next to him, pulling him close, “would you come to Scotland with me? Just for a few days?”

“Scotland?” Geoffrey sounds confused. “What for?”

“I’d love to spend some time with you… alone.”

Geoffrey laughs. “You mean without the prying ears of leeches?” He thinks about the proposition. “I s’pose I could get away for a few days. But why Scotland?”

“Lady Ashbury has an estate there. We’d be undisturbed.” Jonathan blushes. “It’s a ruin, but some parts are still inhabitable.”

“A ruin? You want to take me on holiday in a ruin in Scotland?!”

“Yes. It’s every bloodsucker’s dream holiday, going to Scotland with one’s favourite snack,” Jonathan smirks.

“Oh, so that’s what I am, huh? Your favourite snack?”

“Favourite, yes, definitely,” Jonathan pauses, licking his lips, “but you are _so_ much more than a snack, Geoffrey McCullum!”

“Really! So what am I then, if not a snack?”

“I’ll tell you afterwards,” Jonathan gives him a salacious smile. “Will you have a bath with me?”

“Will I have a bath with you?” Geoffrey asks, confused.

“Hm-m.”

“What, right now?”

“Will you?”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Geoffrey exclaims. “Of course I’ll have bath with you!” Just the thought of sinking into a bathtub with Jonathan makes him hard again. “You are one hopelessly romantic leech, aren’t you?” he asks playfully, pulling Jonathan close to kiss him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There'll be trouble with the Ascalon Club

Although things are going well with his favourite leech, Geoffrey hasn’t seen much of Jonathan in the past few weeks, the doctor being busy working on the cure for Elisabeth. He almost grudgingly admits to himself that he misses the Ekon. Luckily, nobody at Priwen seems to have noticed anything so far, though – Geoffrey is pretty sure his men wouldn’t be happy if they knew about their leader's intimacy with a bloodsucker.

Still, this is not Geoffrey's greatest worry at the moment. He is growing increasingly concerned about the activities of the Ascalon Club. Lord Redgrave seems to have recovered from losing Dawson; in fact, his recruitment seems to be even more successful than before the time of the epidemic, according to Priwen patrols in the area. One particularly disturbing report came from Holton, who claims to have seen Dr Reid going to the club on two occasions. It doesn’t make sense, and Geoffrey finds it hard to believe, but he will have to ask Jonathan about it.

He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the knock on his door and is startled when Captain Richardson suddenly stands before him.

“Is everything all right?” The captain eyes him suspiciously.

“Fred! Why the fuck you sneakin’ up on me like that?”

“I knocked twice.” Fred rolls his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? You seem... distracted.”

“I was thinking about Ascalon, that Redgrave bastard is up to something, I'm sure.”

“Heard something out of the ordinary then?” Richardson sounds genuinely concerned now.

“I don't know, Holton came back, saying he saw Jonath... Reid going in.” Geoffrey hopes his slip of the tongue has gone unnoticed.

It hasn’t.

“ _Jonathan_? Since when do you call Dr Reid by his first name?" Richardson looks at him curiously, but when Geoffrey blushes and looks away, his expression turns to disbelief, then shock. “Wait, what is this about, Geoffrey? Are you telling me that...” He stammers, stumbling over the words as realisation hits him. “You’re sleeping with him?!” The words are out before he can stop himself, half hoping that he is very wrong about this until Geoffrey’s reaction tells him that he isn’t. Richardson swallows hard, then he slumps down in the chair opposite Geoffrey. “Damn, Geoffrey... have you lost your mind?” he whispers, his face ashen.

For a split second, Geoffrey has to bite back a laugh, thinking that Fred’s perceptiveness is one of the reasons he made him captain in the first place, but he quickly sobers. “It’s not like that,” he croaks. His throat feels parched. Wetting his lips, he searches for something to say that'll make sense to Fred. “It’s not like that,” he says again, knowing full well that he can’t fool Richardson. “I can't really explain how it happened... it just… happened.”

Richardson raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“Bloody hell, don’t look at me like that!” Geoffrey growls. “And how… how did you know?” he continues after a short moment, not looking at the captain.

Fred shrugs his shoulders. “I s’pose I had my suspicions when we found you and him in the sewers, with you so concerned and everything, and later when you had him brought here. It’s wasn’t really something Geoffrey McCullum would do. And I assumed you spent the night in one bed.”

“But… that night… nothing happened between him and me."

“Maybe not.” Fred shrugs. “But I guess I know you better than you know yourself, Geoff,” he says almost apologetically, giving Geoffrey a wry smile. “So, what are you going to do about it?"

“What do you mean?”

“You are serious about this, aren’t you? I have no idea what the lads will do when they find out. And, frankly, I think it’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” He shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t really care that you are a... that you are… intimate with another man, but I don’t think the lads will take too kindly to it. And a leech on top of that?”

“It wasn’t a choice,” Geoffrey mumbles. He hates the way this conversation is going, but he knows that Richardson is right. “What are _you_ going to do about it?”

“Me? Nothing.” Richardson gets up. He feels uncomfortable by the fact that Geoffrey’s implicit admission raises more questions than it answers. “I will have a drink though. God, I still can’t believe that after all the women you had you goin’ to settle with someone like Reid.” He pours two glasses, seeing that McCullum needs a drink, too. “Just pray nobody finds out, I guess.” He sits down again. "What will you do if Reid decides to... well, go around killing people… like a proper leech?”

“He won't.”

“But what if he...”

“I told you, he won't!" Geoffrey interrupts him. “I trust him.”

“But you yourself said that he was seen going to the Ascalon Club.”

“Yeah... I will ask him about that.” Geoffrey hesitates. “Look, Fred, if he should ever start behaving like a proper fuckin’ bloodsucker, I will take care of him, I swear. I said so before, and I stand by my word.” And it’s the truth, even though just thinking about it makes him feel sick. “Fred…,” he swallows, unsure of how to phrase his question. “This won’t change anything between us, will it?”

“You mean can I still accept you as leader of the Priwen Guard? Like I said, I don’t really give a damn who you sleep with, as long as it – or your… as Dr Reid – doesn’t interfere with your abilities and convictions.”

“It won’t. And neither will Dr Reid.”

“Then I have no problem with you being our leader – or my friend, for that matter.” Fred sighs, almost relieved. “I don’t think the others need to know about it, so I won’t tell anybody, and neither should you.” He gets up to refill his glass. “You might want to stock up on that Scotch though, I can always use it as a lever, you know.” At Geoffrey’s disconcerted look he grins. “Geoff, I’ve known you for almost all of your life. When I say it’s all right with me, it is. Don’t worry, I have nothing against Dr Reid, even though I find the idea of you two…” He pauses, then decides not to continue. “Nevermind, I don’t even want to know.”

* * *

When Fred leaves later that evening, Geoffrey wonders whether him knowing changes anything and whether his feelings for Jonathan make him a different, or a lesser man. He’s different all right, he thinks, but that’s because, somehow, Reid fills an emptiness he’s had since the death of his family, particularly his brother. And there’s the physical side, too. The sex is different and _very_ exciting, but above all Geoffrey enjoys just being close with another human being, feeling comforted in Reid’s embrace and liking the feeling of having someone in his arms. It certainly doesn’t interfere with his abilities or even desire to kill leeches – to be honest, Geoffrey isn’t even sure whether Jonathan qualifies as a leech; despite everything he sometimes seems more human than many a man with a warm body.

He sighs, knowing that he must talk to Jonathan about the Ascalon business. It can’t wait any longer, no matter how much he wishes to postpone this, but just as Geoffrey forces himself to get up, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Richardson, again. For a second Geoffrey fears that the captain might have changed his mind about what he’d said earlier.

“Err, Geoffrey, Dr Reid wants to see you,” Fred says, pushing Jonathan into Geoffrey’s room before leaving without another word, closing the door behind the Ekon.

“Jonathan!” Geoffrey exclaims, truly surprised. “What are you doing here?! I was just about to come to Pembroke. I need to talk to you.”

Jonathan smiles, but he stays at the door. “I… I thought I’d come by to see how you were doing.” He can’t really tell McCullum that he missed him, so instead he asks: “What did you want to talk about?”

Geoffrey decides to get the unpleasant part behind him as quickly as possible.

“Patrol saw you goin’ to the Ascalon Club.”

“What? The Ascalon Club? When?” Jonathan seems truly confused.

“Few days ago.”

“Huh?!” Jonathan frowns. “I wasn’t there.”

Geoffrey raises an eyebrow. “They said they were certain it was you. Recognised ye by yer coat.”

“I wasn’t there! I don’t even _have_ my coat right now, it’s being mended. I swear I didn’t go to the Ascalon Club.”

“But my men…”

“I just told you – I swear I wasn’t there,” Jonathan interrupts him, irritated. “Isn’t my word good enough?”

“My men wouldn’t lie to me. It was Holton, for fuck’s sake, why on earth should he lie?” Geoffrey exclaims, not looking at him, getting frustrated as this isn’t how he was hoping it would turn out, at all.

“I don’t know. They must have seen someone who looks like me,” Jonathan shrugs, but he’s clearly hurt that Geoffrey doesn’t believe him. “It seems,” he snorts, “you won’t trust a leech no matter what, huh.”

“I do trust you,” Geoffrey says, more aggressively than intended. “It’s just that…”

Jonathan interrupts him again. “What is this even about? I don’t have business at the Ascalon Club.”

“You don’t have business at Priwen headquarters, either, yet here you are,” Geoffrey replies without thinking. ‘McCullum, you stupid arse,’ he silently scolds himself, unable to say anything to lessen the impact of his insult.

Jonathan stares at him for a few seconds, too shocked to reply anything. Then his face hardens. “Fuck you, Geoffrey!” he spits and turns around, leaving the room before Geoffrey can even react.

It takes the hunter a moment to understand what just happened. He’s never even seen Jonathan that upset. Fuck, why does stress always turn him into a bleedin’ idiot, he wonders before he grabs his belt, holsters a gun and runs out of the room to go after the Ekon.

“Jonathan, wait!” he yells when he finally sees the vampire a few streets away from the Priwen premises, and runs faster. “Please, just wait! Jonathan!”

Jonathan slows down, letting Geoffrey catch up with him. He turns around to face the hunter. “I want to go. It’ll be dawn soon.” His voice and grey eyes seem fairly calm, but his teeth are clenched and he’s breathing harder than usual.

“No, it won’t.” Geoffrey exhales, panting because of the sprint, and uncertain because of Jonathan’s silence and his motionless, hard face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I… I didn’t even mean it.” He swallows hard, waiting for a reaction and standing awkwardly in front of the vampire.

Jonathan hesitates. “You were right, McCullum” he finally replies in a hoarse voice. “I have no business at Priwen headquarters. I should never have…”

“Bloody hell, Jonathan,” Geoffrey groans, “both of us can’t be stubborn…” He bites his lips in frustration.

“And why do you always get to be the stubborn one, McCullum?”

“Because I’m the bloody idiot, and you’re the doctor, you’re s’posed to be reasonable and all,” Geoffrey says, seeing that Jonathan is still very upset. Without thinking, he roughly grabs Jonathan by the coat and pulls him close, not caring whether anybody sees them. “Reid, please, don’t be difficult, you know you _do_ have business at Priwen headquarters – I very much want you to.” He feels the other man’s body against him, stiff with resistance at first but relaxing gradually in the warm embrace. “I’m a stupid bastard sometimes, I jus’ can’t help it. I honestly didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” Jonathan rasps.

At least he doesn’t resist when Geoffrey kisses him on the mouth and then pulls him into a close embrace.

“ _Oh my_! Does Lady Ashbury know you’re cheating on her with Priwen scum?”

They both turn around, startled by the voice coming from the darkness. Instantly, Geoffrey lets go of Jonathan and takes a step back. He can’t see anything. But Jonathan can.

“Pembleton!” he growls, recognising the Ascalon’s doorman. “What do you want?”

Now that the other man steps out of the shadows, Geoffrey can see him too. It’s an Ekon, evident by his deathly pallor and pale eyes. He’s a strong man, and even though he is smiling, there’s something upsetting lurking in his eyes. The hunter reaches for the gun at his side but doesn’t unholster it.

“I was on my way to the club. Lord Redgrave, by the way, has been inquiring about you,” he says to Jonathan, but he looks at Geoffrey.

There’s something in his gaze that Geoffrey can’t quite place, a challenge, or threat, an aggression barely hidden behind a vague smile. It gives him the creeps.

“Lord Redgrave knows I have no business with the Ascalon Club anymore,” Jonathan says. He seems calm despite the tension in his voice.

“Well,” Pembleton hums, “I don’t think that is up to you to decide, Dr Reid.” He nods at Geoffrey. “Is that your new pet or will you be feeding on him later? I’d love to join in, he smells good even from here.” The Ekon smiles jovially, slightly tilting his head.

“Fuck off!” Geoffrey hisses, wishing the other man would give him an excuse to draw the gun and shoot him.

“Oh, he’s a fierce one, isn’t he!” Pembleton gives Jonathan a sardonic smile, then he licks his lips, moving closer to Geoffrey.

“You’d better go now,” Jonathan growls, “or you might not get another chance.” He can’t help but step protectively in front of the hunter, shielding him from the other Ekon’s gaze. Geoffrey doesn’t like it, it makes him feel like he’s being left out, as if he couldn’t take care of himself. Still, he doesn’t protest or even move, knowing that Reid is well capable of handling the other Ekon. It’s probably better not to start a fight.

“Why so angry, Dr Reid? Toy with that Priwen scum all you like, and Lady Ashbury is not really my concern anyway.” He purses his lips, then slowly moves back to the darkness whence he came. “I will give your regards to Lord Redgrave. You’re always welcome at the club, particularly if you bring that delicious piece of meat with you,” he purrs, then he vanishes.

“I should have killed the fuckin’ bastard!” Geoffrey snarls, still looking at the spot where Pembleton disappeared.

“Don’t bother, Geoffrey, he’s gone anyway.” Jonathan suddenly sounds exhausted. He is disappointed because he’d been hoping for a pleasant evening with Geoffrey. Instead they fought, and, to make it worse, they fought over nothing. And the fact that Pembleton has seen them together, seen them kiss, makes him very uneasy. He couldn’t care less what Ascalon – or anyone else, for that matter – thinks about it, but if Pembleton knows how close he and the leader of the Priwen Guard really are, Lord Redgrave will know it, too. And Jonathan hasn’t forgotten that he failed to deliver when Redgrave depended on him, disappointing him in the worst way when he let Dawson die. He doesn’t want to tell Geoffrey about it, fearing that it would only make the hunter want to raise hell at the Ascalon Club, so he just hopes that Redgrave is enough of a gentleman to leave Geoffrey out of it.

“He will make trouble, won’t he,” Geoffrey says, unable to miss Jonathan’s unease.

The Ekon shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t want to lie to Geoffrey, so he says nothing. “Well, I’ll better get back to the Pembroke,” he sighs after a short moment of silence.

“I was hoping you’d tell me why you wanted to see me tonight,” Geoffrey offers, trying to make up for his fuck-up earlier that evening. “Will you have a drink with me at the Turquoise Turtle?” He moves closer to Jonathan. “I’ll even pay for my own drinks tonight, I promise,” he says, grabbing the vampire’s cool hand.

Jonathan sighs. He can’t hold a grudge against the hunter, and although he’d prefer to be at least a little angry at him, he’s unable to resist Geoffrey’s pleading look and gentle touch.

“You really are a stubborn bastard, McCullum,” he growls. “I don’t want to have a drink with you, or even talk to you… but I will.” He pulls Geoffrey close. “How could I not,” he mumbles into the other man’s neck.

The Turquoise Turtle is quite full when they arrive. Most of the customers have already had a few drinks too many, but they’re merry and they don’t pay any attention to the new arrivals, so Jonathan doesn’t really mind.

“Why don’t you find us a quieter spot while I get something to drink,” Geoffrey says, gently pushing Jonathan towards one of the tables in the corner.

Jonathan is surprised when he brings two glasses of Scotch.

“You do like the taste, don’t you?” Geoffrey asks, sitting down opposite Jonathan. “I’ll finish it when you’re done smelling.” This finally gets him a smile from the other man. “So, what did you want to talk about with me?”

“I forgot,” Jonathan lies, knowing that it’s obvious.

“Awww, come on, Reid! You just missed me, didn’t you, and you wanted to see me,” Geoffrey teases. Before Jonathan can reply anything, he gives him a warm smile and continues, “I missed you, too.”

“You did?”

“Hmm-m, yes, I did.” Geoffrey gives him a mischievous smile. “Couldn’t stop thinking about what I want to do to you, y’know?” It suddenly seems important to him not leave Jonathan in any doubt, not after the fight they had.

“I have a hideout just opposite the street,” Jonathan simply says, too tired to play games. Besides, he can’t deny that he really did miss Geoffrey, and that he’d very much like to find out about what the hunter wants to do to him. “It’s a dump, but we can spend the rest of the night there, and the day, if you like. Unless you’re needed back at Priwen.”

“I’m not.” Geoffrey hopes that his relief isn’t too apparent. “Just let me finish those drinks, then I’m all yours,” he whispers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ascalon will get their revenge, there's an unexpected ally and the sewers are as deadly as usual.

When Geoffrey wakes up the next day, the sun is still up, and Jonathan is still fast asleep, holding him close. Geoffrey groans. His shoulder hurts where the Ekon bit him the previous night. Jonathan hadn’t exactly ravaged him, but he hadn’t been gentle either – though, truth be told, it had been exciting to feel the vampire’s unusually unrestrained strength. Just thinking about the night has Geoffrey become hard again, and it takes all of his willpower to let Jonathan sleep. The desire that had surfaced is still tingling in his spine and his guts. He’d wanted to be closer to Jonathan than just be with him, had wanted to be _in_ him, and if Jonathan hadn’t been on top of him, pinning him down from behind, kissing and biting, he might have fucked him right there and then. And he’d felt the same desire in Jonathan when the Ekon had grinded his crotch against his buttocks, only restrained by his trousers and probably the wish not to hurt Geoffrey.

He moves closer to Jonathan; even though the vampire’s body isn’t exactly warm, it helps against the chill in the room. Perhaps he should get up, wash and eat something. But the place really is a dump, and he doesn’t expect either water or food. He doesn’t want to leave Jonathan just like that and go back home, which leaves Tom’s bar as the only option. Carefully, he moves the Ekon’s arm away and gets up, puts on his trousers, shirt and boots, then he quietly leaves the room.

The evening is beautiful, but, luckily, not many people are out in the street to enjoy it. Geoffrey quickly makes his way down the balcony and over to the Turquoise Turtle. He prays to find the bar empty, which it is, and that Tom won’t smell the sex on him. But Tom isn’t even there, it’s Sabrina standing behind the counter in his stead.

“Mr McCullum,” she exclaims, “rough day?”

Geoffrey just nods. “Can I please get a coffee? And maybe wash somewhere?”

“Sure. You can use the bathroom upstairs. If you don’t make a mess.” She looks after him, wondering how come he shows up so early and why he’s in such a dishevelled state. “’d you like som’in’ to eat?”

“That’d be great, yes,” he says, somewhat surprised that she seems to care, then hurries up the stairs before Sabrina might notice anything strange about him. It takes a while until he feels presentable again. Good thing his clothes are still fairly clean.

“Are you all right?” Sabrina asks him when he comes back down and takes a seat at one of the tables. She looks almost worried.

Geoffrey smiles at her. He isn’t used to people being concerned about him, and certainly not around the Docks. “Yeah. Thanks for asking. And thank you for letting me use the bath.”

Sabrina just nods, then she brings him a cup of coffee and a plate with scrambled eggs and two slices of bread. It’s only now that Geoffrey realises how hungry he really is. Being with Jonathan seems to do that to him, though it might just be because he spent all night in bed with the Ekon, and virtually none of it sleeping. Jonathan will be hungry, too, he muses, and he tries to decide where his feeding will hurt least. As long as he can cover the bitemarks his men shouldn’t get too suspicious, Geoffrey hopes, although at least some of them must have noticed their leader’s changed pattern of absences.

When he’s done, he pays for the food and the coffee and thanks Sabrina as he leaves the Turquoise Turtle. Jonathan should wake up soon, judging by the waning light of day. Climbing up to the balcony, Geoffrey feels his heartbeat increase. One day, that bloodsucker will be his death, for sure, he thinks as he enters the hideout.

Jonathan is still asleep, but as it’s already getting dark he can’t really mind being woken up. Geoffrey takes off his boots and shirt and crawls back under the sheets, kissing Jonathan’s neck and shoulder and moving a hand over his cool skin.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan mumbles sleepily.

“Waking up my favourite leech,” Geoffrey whispers.

“You’re cold, where’ve you been?”

Geoffrey laughs. “Cold? Look who’s talking! I was just having breakfast – dinner – at Tom’s place. I was hungry, and you were sleeping anyway.”

“I’m awake now.”

“And I bet you’re hungry, too.”

The Ekon growls. “Why do you always make it sound like you’re actually enjoying my hunger, McCullum?” Jonathan says, turning around to face the hunter.

“Because you enjoy feeding on me, don’t you, and I like that.”

For a moment, Jonathan is unable to reply anything.

“So, are you hungry?” Geoffrey asks, moving to straddle Jonathan between his legs, and kisses him on the mouth. The nice thing is, no matter what the Ekon eats, he always tastes delicious.

“I’m sorry I bit you last night,” Jonathan mutters, placing his hands on Geoffrey’s thighs. “I hope it doesn’t hurt too much anymore.”

“It’s fine. But please pick a different spot the next time.”

“You do know I can go without feeding for a few days? I’d rather not bite you, Geoffrey, I know it always hurts.”

“I’ve had worse. And who knows,” Geoffrey smirks, “one day I might have fangs of my own and then I’ll pay you back.”

“You once told me that’d be worse than death.”

“I guess it would be.” Geoffrey thinks for a moment. “Though your life doesn’t seem so bad – or your unlife… whatever it is called.”

“Doesn’t it, huh,” Jonathan snorts. “My _unlife_ ,” he sighs, “would be hell, I think… if it wasn’t for you, McCullum.”

“I’ll have to try harder then,” Geoffrey smiles, unwilling to show how moved he is by Jonathan’s words, “and hunt you down, without mercy.” He bends down to gently bite the Ekon’s neck and shoulder. “By the way, you still haven’t told me why you came to see me last night,” he says, changing the topic.

“I think I found a cure for Elisabeth.”

“And you’re telling me _now_?!” Geoffrey shouts.

“Well, you were busy being stupid last night, so I didn’t really get the chance to tell you.”

“I really was, wasn’t I. Does she know?”

“No, I was going to tell her tonight, try it out.”

“So… you could take a few days off after that? You do remember you promised me a holiday.”

It’s not how Jonathan remembers is, but he’s happy that Geoffrey brings the subject up. “You mean you want to go to Scotland with me after all?”

“Never said I didn’t want to.” Geoffrey gives him a wry smile. “Give me two days to organise things. Fred can take over for a few days. Incidentally,” he clears his throat, “he found out about… us.”

“How?! Did you tell him?” Jonathan looks at him aghast.

“Of course I didn’t tell him! He found out… He’s a Priwen captain, after all, we’re all pretty smart.”

“Uhhh…,” Jonathan rolls his eyes, “sure you are. What did he say?”

“Nothin’ much. He has nothing against you, really, but it’s not like this whole thing could make him happy, right? Or anyone at Priwen, for that matter.”

Jonathan shrugs his shoulders. “I guess not. But I’m fine with that as long as your men won’t try to kill me – again.”

“They won’t, as long as you don’t do anything too leechy. And if you do, _I_ will take care of you.”

“I trust you will,” Jonathan says, pulling Geoffrey close. “But your offer for a leechy breakfast still stands, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Two nights later, Jonathan is waiting for Geoffrey at the train station.

He isn’t sure yet whether his cure will work, but since only time will tell, being away for a few days won’t make any difference. Elisabeth was pleased to hear of their plans and had no objections to them staying at her estate, though she reminded Jonathan that the place was in a very poor condition and hardly suitable for a holiday. At Jonathan’s shrug, she laughed, saying that the bedroom was okay and the landscape offered a formidable view, particularly in the moonlight.

Jonathan checks his watch again. He’s growing increasingly worried because Geoffrey is not only not on time, it also looks as if they will miss the train. He wonders if the hunter has changed his mind, but he wouldn’t just let him wait for ages and not send word or anything, would he?

But Geoffrey doesn’t show up. ‘Bloody hell,’ Jonathan mutters through his teeth as he grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder to leave the station. It’s past midnight, the train has long departed. For a moment, the Ekon stands outside the station, uncertain of where he should go. It’s raining lightly, but he doesn’t even notice. Going back to the Pembroke isn’t really an option and Elisabeth can’t help him, not with this, but he doesn’t want to go Priwen headquarters either. He’s not sure what he fears more – finding Geoffrey there or not finding him. Finally, he pulls himself together. There’s no point in putting off the inevitable, so checking Priwen first it is.

Jonathan always feels a tad uneasy when he nears the Priwen premises, and the guards at the gate don’t usually seem too happy to see a bloodsucker enter their place, either. They let him pass though, even wish him a good evening. He walks straight towards Geoffrey’s office, not bothering to inquire on the whereabouts of their leader, and his heart sinks with every step.

“Dr Reid!” A familiar voice stops him in his tracks. It is Holton, who seems genuinely happy to see Jonathan. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Jonathan gives him a confused look. “Back?”

“Well, I thought you… because you went to the Ascalon Club, so I thought that…”

“I didn’t go to the Ascalon Club,” Jonathan interrupts him. “I know you thought you saw me there, but it wasn’t me.”

“Really?” Holton looks puzzled, then embarrassed. “I was sure it was your coat, and… and it looked like you, I swear to God! I’m very sorry, Sir, I hope I didn’t get you in trouble because of it, but if I did… I’m terribly sorry, I really didn’t mean to.”

“It’s all right, Duncan.” Jonathan says reassuringly. He’s almost sorry, seeing how bad the rookie feels about the whole thing. “Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry, but I could really use your help. Do you know where McCullum is?”

“Yes, he said he was going to Scotland for a few days. Maybe I can help out?”

“When did he leave?”

“Well, last night, said he had some unfinished business, but then he didn’t come back, and I assumed he went straight to the train station from wherever he went last night. Why, is something wrong?” Holton looks worried.

Jonathan swallows. He’d feared that Geoffrey might have backed down, which would have been bad enough, but the alternative is worse. “You don’t know where he went? Did he have any luggage with him?”

“I… I don’t think so, no.” Holton hesitates. “What’s wrong, Sir?”

“Nothing… I hope.” Jonathan thinks for a second, then he makes up his mind. If Geoffrey left the night before, didn’t come back to headquarters and didn’t show up at the station either, something wasn’t right. “What about Captain Richardson, is he around?”

“No, he’s on patrol.”

“Listen, Duncan, will you do something for me? When he comes back, could you tell him to meet me at Lady Ashbury’s place tomorrow evening? Do you know the place?”

Holton nods. “Yes, I know the mansion. I’ll tell him, of course! Is there anything else I can do, Sir?”

“Yes, please take care of my stuff,” Jonathan says, putting his bag on the ground. He opens it, takes out his sword and then gives the bag to Holton and attaches the sword to his belt, next to the holstered pistol. “Just make sure to tell Captain Richardson, all right?” Jonathan trusts Holton won’t forget, so he takes his leave, wondering where he should start his search for Geoffrey. He has a hunch that the Ascalon Club might be involved in this, remembering how uneasy the hunter had been about Lord Redgrave’s recent activities.

Unconsciously making his way towards the West End, he considers whether he should go to the club and confront Redgrave head-on, although he knows that wouldn’t be wise. Just when he decides that it’s still the fastest way to find out whether Ascalon has anything to do with Geoffrey’s disappearance, he notices a shadow moving in the corner of his eye. He stops and reaches for his sword.

A figure steps out of the darkness into the light of a street lamp, and Jonathan immediately recognises the Ekon’s pale face.

“Good evening, Marquis,” he says, warily glowering at the other man.

“ _Bonsoir, cher cousin_!” the Marquis replies cheerfully, approaching Jonathan. “Out hunting?” he asks jovially. “Need I be afraid?”

‘Fuck off,” Jonathan thinks and says: “No, I guess not, I am in hurry and don’t really care about your sordid endeavours tonight.” He turns to leave, but the Marquis unexpectedly holds him back.

“Might your foul mood have something to do with your… friend? That Irishman from Priwen?”

“What the hell do you know about McCullum?!” Jonathan hisses, grabbing the Ekon by the collar and pushing him back against the wall of the building behind him.

“ _Putain_ , let go!” the Marquis exclaims. “ _I_ have nothing to do with this! Let me go, I’ll tell you all I know about it.” He raises his hands.

“Tell me all about _what_?” Jonathan asks, letting go of his coat.

“Dr Reid, before you get angry at me again, just believe me that I had nothing to do with it.” At Jonathan’s nod, he continues. “I’ve heard stories about you, you defeated the disaster, did you not? _Alors_ , I believe I owe you, since you left me in peace when you found about my… accident… the girl, Emily? I do not want to be your opponent, Dr Reid, _vraiment_.”

Jonathan waves his hand impatiently. “Yes, all right, just tell me about McCullum!”

“He’s with Ascalon.” The marquis hesitates. “Look, just to be clear on this: I help you because you helped me and because I respect you for what you’ve done, but I have no business with Lord Redgrave or any of his… friends. I want no part in this, _d’accord_? _J’veux pas de problèmes avec eux_! Anyway, two nights ago, I see your friend, or I assume it was him because they said his name – Lord Redgrave and another Ekon. So, I’m only guessing it was him, he had a bag over his head and I could not see his face and…”

“Was he dead?” Jonathan asks, his hoarse voice barely audible.

“I think he was unconscious, but his heart was beating, yes. In any case, I followed them. It’s never wrong to know people’s secrets, right?” the Marquis smirks. “They brought him to the sewers, didn’t check whether they were followed so it was easy.”

“What happened? What did they do to him?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it was my business to watch them feed or do whatever they wanted to do to him, so I left before that. But I heard them talk. Your name came up.” He shrugs, unsure whether it’s Reid who should be afraid of the Ascalon Club’s apparently unwanted attention or the members of the club themselves. “Lord Redgrave said he was happy to finally pay you back. For not turning Monsieur Dawson, or something? Anyway, he said he’d make you pay for that. He suggested to leave McCullum in the same state Dawson was in, whatever that means, and since you refuse to turn humans, you won’t turn him either. He also said you were in love with McCullum, and since you know making him one of us would be worse for him than death, you’d have to let him die.”

“Where did they take him?” Jonathan growls, grabbing the other Ekon again. He’s growing impatient as well as desperate. “Tell me!”

“Calm down, I’ll show you – if you promise to leave me out of this – I certainly do not want to be involved in a fight with the most powerful people on this island!” He waits until Jonathan removes his hands. “I told you, I’d show you. Just please, calm yourself, _docteur_.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That temper, _putain_!”

“My apologies,” Jonathan mutters. “Please, take me to where you last saw McCullum.”

The marquis nods, then he motions Jonathan to follow him.

They walk in silence, though Jonathan can’t help but wonder at his unexpected ally. “Why are you doing this?” he finally asks.

“Like I said, I think I am in your debt. And,” the marquis adds after a short pause, “I hope of course that you will not ever consider me your enemy after that. I would hate to make the acquaintance of the business end of your bludgeon,” he laughs.

“You might want to leave England, just to be on the safe side with regards to my bludgeon,” Jonathan warns him, but he nods; if he can save Geoffrey thanks to the Marquis de Bois-Colombes, the Frenchman will indeed be quite safe from him, regardless of what he does.

“I might, though I quite like it here,” the marquis replies, then he points to a stairway leading to one of the sewer entrances. “Well, we’ve arrived, and I will leave you now. Take the second turn right, then the first turn left. There are bars on the entrance, but they’re broken, you can squeeze through.” He bows and, without another word, vanishes into the night’s shadows.

Jonathan unsheathes his sword, then he makes his way into the sewers, following the marquis’ directions. Except for the sound of water dripping off the walls, it’s quiet, but the smell gets worse with every step. There’s no life, no blood either – which is probably a good sign. Finally, Jonathan reaches the tunnel with the broken gate. In the distance, he senses a faint heartbeat – it could really be anyone, or anything, but he hopes it’s Geoffrey, because it’s the only beating heart he can make out in the area.

When he gets there – a gallery where several large water tunnels meet – he instinctively knows that the man hanging from a rope by his feet is indeed Geoffrey. Without thinking, he jumps towards the unmoving figure. The hunter’s hands are bound behind his back and a coarse canvas bag has been put over his head. But it’s him, these are his clothes, it’s his smell – and his blood. Jonathan grabs the limp body, holding him up so he can cut the rope from which Geoffrey’s hanging, then he takes off the bag. Geoffrey’s face is swollen both from hanging upside down and from the beating he received, and blood is running from his nose and mouth. He coughs when Jonathan lays him on the ground, cradling the hunter’s head.

“Geoffrey…” He strokes the hunter’s bloodied cheeks, unable to say anything else. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, silently cursing Lord Redgrave and the whole Ascalon Club, swearing to himself that he’ll make them wish they’d never been born.

“Jonathan?” Geoffrey rasps, his voice distorted by pain and barely audible. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, Geoffrey, I’m here now.” Helplessly, he holds the hunter’s shivering body close. He can sense the blood on him, and through tears in his clothes he can see that his whole body is bruised, but it’s only when Geoffrey says he can’t feel his legs that Jonathan notices the strange blood flow in the man’s back. Very gently he moves his fingers along Geoffrey’s spine, clenching his jaw as he feels the injuries under the cloth.

“Please, Jonathan…” Geoffrey whimpers, “help me. Please make the pain stop… make it stop.”

Jonathan swallows hard. He understands now what Redgrave meant – there’s nothing he can do for Geoffrey, no way he can heal the broken spine or stop the internal bleeding, no way he can save his lover’s life.

“Geoffrey, listen carefully,” he whispers, feeling that they don’t have much time left. “The pain will soon go away…” He hesitates, deciding that there’s no point in lying. “But there’s nothing a doctor can do for you.”

The hunter is silent, fighting hard to fill his lungs with air as each laboured breath hurts. He grabs Jonathan’s hand, and his grip is weak and shaky. “Help me, please.” He says again, his voice growing fainter with every word.

“I can’t.” Jonathan swallows hard, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. “I can’t help you, not as a doctor, and…”

“Then turn me,” the hunter interrupts him.

“Geoffrey, I… You said that’d be worse for you than death…”

“’t is… worse…,” the hunter wheezes, “but now that I have you, leaving you would be worse still.” He pauses, regaining his breath. “Turn me,” he pleads again, “make me yours.”

Hesitating no longer, Jonathan pulls back the sleeves of his coat and shirt and bites his wrist. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey,” he groans, holding his wrist to Geoffrey’s mouth. The hunter opens his mouth, but he’s so weak that the wound closes before he can drink.

‘Fuck this,’ Jonathan thinks, then he bites his wrist again, sucking hard on the wound. He keeps the blood in his mouth, then he bends down and puts his lips on Geoffrey’s. As soon as the hunter opens his mouth, he lets the blood flow into his mouth, waiting patiently for him to swallow it.

“It’s… disgustin’, your leechy stuff.” Geoffrey manages a painful grin.

“I know,” Jonathan whispers and kisses the hunter on the forehead. “You can hunt me down for it later.”

“I will…,” Geoffrey rasps. “Will this hurt?”

“Yes. But you won’t remember any of it afterwards.”

“You’ll be there, though, won’t you?” the hunter pleads in a small voice, gripping Jonathan’s hand harder.

“I won’t leave you, McCullum, and I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Geoffrey tries to reply, but his heartbeat is already slowing down and becoming weaker. Jonathan holds him close, feeling the body in his arms grow limp, focusing on Geoffrey’s heart until it stops beating.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good riddance - Geoffrey does wake up again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to finally finish this chapter - and I edited all the previous ones, fixing typos and other minor issues.  
> Hope yous still enjoying the read!

For a few minutes, Jonathan doesn’t move, he just sits still, holding Geoffrey close. Then he wipes his eyes and gets up. He sure as hell won’t have Geoffrey turn and wake up in this horrid place. Pembroke isn’t an option, neither are the Priwen premises, but he knows he can count on Elisabeth. Gently, he picks up the hunter’s lifeless, heavy body to carry him back to the Ashbury mansion.

Luckily, it’s raining more heavily now; the streets are empty, and Jonathan’s relieved that they don’t encounter another soul on their way to Elisabeth’s place. When he rings the bell, though, he feels almost embarrassed for the state they’re in – both he and Geoffrey are completely soaked, and in his torn clothes and beaten up, the dead hunter is a horrifying sight.

Elisabeth answers the door almost right away. She looks first at Jonathan, then at Geoffrey in his arms, mouth open in shock.

“Jonathan!” she finally exclaims, “what happened?”

Before he can answer, she steps aside, opening the door wide. “Come in, please!”

Jonathan half-heartedly tries to protest, looking down at himself in a helpless gesture, but she just waves her hand. “Nevermind that, just come in,” she says, grabbing Jonathan’s arm and pulling him into the hallway.

She takes a second to look at him and Geoffrey. “He’s turning, isn’t he?” she finally asks.

Jonathan just nods, the lump in his throat keeping him from speaking. He’s grateful for Elisabeth’s apparently unconditional trust; no one else he knows would have let him in and helped before knowing or trying to find out what happened first.

“Come, you’re soaking wet and there’s blood all over you. I’ll get some clothes for you, and we’ll talk.” Gently, she drags Jonathan into the drawing room and motions him to lay Geoffrey on the settee in front of the fire. “I’ll clean up afterwards, don’t worry about it,” she says when Jonathan hesitates. “He might be dead and turning, but he’s very weak, and you don’t want to make things worse for him when he wakes up. So, tell me, what happened.”

Jonathan clears his throat, then he recounts the past evening, which now almost feels like half a lifetime ago. Elisabeth is clearly distressed by what he tells her, the more so as she realises how close Jonathan is to breaking down.

“So this is Lord Redgrave thanking you for letting him down with regards to Dawson…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I always knew that Redgrave couldn’t be trusted, but I never imagined that he’d be capable of anything like this.” She hesitates. “Jonathan… why did you turn McCullum? We both know that becoming a vampire is the man’s worst nightmare.”

Jonathan doesn’t look at her when he answers. “He begged me to do it. Said that…,” he stumbles over the words, “losing me would be even worse than being turned. There was nothing else I could have done for him, not with a broken spine and those internal injuries… By the time I arrived, he… he was still conscious, but bleeding to death, and I couldn’t help him. I swear I wouldn’t have given him my blood if he hadn’t begged me to, you have to believe me.”

Elisabeth has never seen her friend so desperate, not even after Mary’s death. “Of course I believe you, Jonathan. I just hope he won’t change his mind when he wakes up to his new existence.” She sounds much calmer than she really is, but if she let her worries show, things would only get worse, and she fears that Jonathan won’t be able to take worse.

“If he does, just let him kill me, will you?” Jonathan whispers, waiting until she acknowledges what he’s saying before he continues. “And if _he_ won’t, I’m counting on you to end me. Please promise me you will kill me, Elisabeth.”

“ _Kill you_?” Charlotte has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Why does mum have to kill you? And why is Mr McCullum…” She puts a hand on her mouth. “Good God, what happened? Is he dead? What’s going on?” She looks at Elisabeth, then at Jonathan. “Did… did you turn him? What happened to him? Who beat him up? Can I help with something?” Not waiting for an answer, she rushes over to Geoffrey and puts a hand on his forehead. “You should get him out of his wet things, you can’t just leave him like this!” she exclaims, giving both Ekons a reproachful look. “I’ll get some warm water. Could you please carry him to the bedroom, Dr Reid?”

For once, Jonathan is grateful for Charlotte being so straightforward and bold. Her manners might sometimes be out of place, but tonight she seems to be the one with a clear focus on what’s most important.

“Come on now, you can discuss all of this later, after you’ve taken care of your friend.” Charlotte is already by the door, waiting for Jonathan.

“Elisabeth, listen,” Jonathan says before leaving the drawing room, “I told Captain Richardson from the Priwen Guard to meet me here tomorrow evening. I can’t explain right now, but when he shows up, you’ll know why he came. Don’t attack him or his men, all right?”

Elisabeth nods. “I won’t. Don’t worry about this. And I’ll get you some clothes. If you need anything else, I’ll be right here. Now go, Charlotte is right, you need to take care of Geoffrey.”

When Jonathan picks up Geoffrey’s body to carry him into the bedroom, he feels the knot in his throat grow bigger, and his sight is becoming blurred. He’s relieved that Charlotte is keeping a level head; she takes off the hunter’s boots and socks and rubs his icy feet for a short moment before she gets up.

“I’ll get some warm water so you can wash him. I’ll be right back.” She puts a reassuring hand on Jonathan’s back, and he’d tell her how glad he is that she’s there, but the words are stuck in his throat and he just nods his thanks. Truth is, he knows Geoffrey is in pain, he can hear his screams in his head, and even though the hunter is lying perfectly still Jonathan can feel the agony pierce his own guts as if the pain was his.

When Charlotte comes back with a bucket of steaming hot water, she doesn’t fail to notice Jonathan wincing in pain, clenching his jaw and fists. “You should talk to him,” she says. She’s heard and read enough about becoming a vampire to know that Geoffrey is burning alive and that his sire can feel it. Jonathan gives her a pained look, not understanding. “He’ll hear you. Talk to him.” She gives Jonathan a reassuring nod. “If you need anything, I’ll be right before the door.” She knows that she’ll be an intruder at best, and there’s little anyone can do for McCullum right now anyway. And watching Dr Reid suffer for the two of them is more than she wants to take anyway.

When he’s alone, Jonathan carefully undresses Geoffrey, wincing at every bruise and cut he uncovers. Although he knows that the hunter’s pain stems from the turning process rather than the injuries, he barely dares touch him, the more so as he can feel every broken bone as his fingers trace Geoffrey’s cold skin. He starts with the hunter’s face, gently wiping away the dried up blood and tears and dirt. He swallows hard when he notices Geoffrey’s bitten tongue. That fucking Redgrave will pay for this, he swears, anger rising in him until he gets up with a start and rushes to the door.

Outside, he bumps into Charlotte, who looks at him with growing concern.

“Dr Reid!”

For a split second Jonathan thinks it odd that Charlotte still doesn’t address him by his first name. “Leave me, Charlotte.” He is breathing heavily, his fists clenched so hard that his arms tremble. “I can’t take this anymore. I’ve got to…”

“Don’t.” Charlotte grabs him by the elbow. “Don’t go. You have all the time in the world to take care of Ascalon. But your friend needs you now. Don’t let him wake up a vampire alone.”

Her words are like a cold shower, effectively bringing him to reason as he remembers the promise he’s given Geoffrey. He looks at her, shaking his head in defeat. “I can’t take it anymore, Charlotte,” he whispers. “I can hear him scream in my head, I feel his pain, I just can’t…”

“It won’t take forever,” Charlotte interrupts him. “He’ll be fine. You both will. Ascalon can wait. Stay with Mr McCullum.” She waits until he’s calmed down a bit, then she leads him back to the bedroom. “I’ll go see if mum found you some dry clothes.” She turns to leave, trying not to look at the body lying on the bed. “Promise you won’t do anything you might regret later.”

Jonathan sighs. He knows that Charlotte is only talking about him not leaving Geoffrey, but he wonders whether he hasn’t already done what he might eventually regret. As much as he’s looking forward to Geoffrey waking up, he’s also afraid of it. He wonders if the hunter had really been himself when he’d begged him to turn him, or whether the pain had been so bad that he’d no longer understood what he was asking for. What if Geoffrey resents his decision? Even hates him for it? Jonathan swallows hard, then sits down on the bed next to the hunter’s lifeless body. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey,” he whispers, gently stroking the man’s cold face. “I’m sorry that it had to end this way. If I’d known…” He hesitates. “Ascalon will pay for this, I swear.”

There’s a knock on the door and Jonathan quickly gets up.

“Jonathan? I got some clothes for you.” It’s Elisabeth’s voice. She waits a short moment before she hesitantly opens the door. “Are you all right?” she asks, giving him a worried look.

He shrugs his shoulders, then nods. “Thanks for the clothes, Elisabeth. And for everything else.”

“Don’t mention it. Listen, it’s nearly morning, I’ll go to sleep now, unless you need something else?”

“No, I don’t need anything. Thank you.”

Elisabeth hesitates. “It’ll be fine, Jonathan,” she says, taking a step towards him and pulling him into an embrace, which he gratefully accepts. “You don’t have to get through this alone,” she says when she turns to leave the room, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be off to bed now, see you both tonight.” She nods at him and Geoffrey. “Charlotte went out to the butcher’s, but she promised to be back soon. If you need anything, she’ll help.”

Jonathan, too, longs for sleep, but he knows he needs to take care of Geoffrey first. Sitting down on the bed again, he finishes washing him, ignoring the screaming in his head as best he can, then tucks him in. There’s nothing else he can do for the hunter right now, so he finally takes off his own wet clothes and puts on the pants that Elisabeth brought him. He doesn’t get fully dressed, instead he lies down next to Geoffrey, crawls under the blanket and soon falls asleep, holding the hunter close even though he is quite distressed by the coldness of his body.

When Jonathan wakes, it’s still daytime. Although he at once remembers where he is and why Geoffrey’s lifeless and cold is lying next to him, he wonders for a second what woke him. Then he hears loud voices in the hallway, and a split second later the door is burst wide open.

It’s Captain Richardson, with Charlotte following suit.

“Sir, I told you to wait outside!” The young woman is clearly upset, though Richardson pays her no mind. The picture before him has him stopped dead in his tracks.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” he cries out in shock. “Reid! I demand you tell me what this is about right now!” If he’d known that he’d find his leader in bed with the leech, he might have heeded Charlotte’s advice and waited. Reid gets up with a start, and he’s somewhat relieved to find that at least the doctor is wearing pants.

“Captain…” Jonathan, still sleepy and confused, is unable to say anything else.

Fred looks at him, then at Geoffrey, realising that the Priwen leader hasn’t moved despite the noise and commotion, and looks back at Jonathan, face turning pale with shock and disgust.

“It’s not like that…,” Jonathan begins, but he’s cut short when Fred slaps him hard across the face.

“You bastard!” the captain hisses. He stares at the Ekon, then slaps him again.

Jonathan’s face burns, but he doesn’t even try to defend himself.

It’s Charlotte who steps in front of the Priwen captain. “Stop hitting him! It’s not Dr Reid’s fault!” she exclaims. “He saved your leader’s life, so letting him explain is the least you can do!”

“It’s okay, Charlotte,” Jonathan murmurs, half fearing that Fred might hit her, too.

But the captain takes a step back. “Then explain,” he growls, still breathing hard and ready to strike again.

Jonathan does his best to explain so that the captain will understand, particularly why he turned Geoffrey, about how Geoffrey didn’t show up at the train station, how he had found him in the sewers, what state he’d been in and that the hunter had begged him to be turned.

“Geoffrey begged you to turn him, eh?” Richardson snorts. “He’d be the least to…”

“You can ask him yourself,” Jonathan interrupts him. “He’ll wake up soon.”

“Rest assured that I will, Reid. And I swear to God, if you’re lying, you’ll wish you’d never been born – and re-born for that matter. I will kill you, and I will make you suffer,” Fred hisses, glaring at Jonathan.

Jonathan just shrugs his shoulders, unimpressed by the threat. “If Geoffrey says I turned him against his will, you can do with me whatever you like, Captain. I won’t care.”

Richardson nods, then he turns around and leaves without another word.

Charlotte, pale and trembling, looks at Jonathan. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

“Don’t worry, Charlotte, you’re not to blame. I just didn’t expect him here so early, and I was hoping that...” He breaks off, then gives her a faint and tired smile. “Thank you very much for your help, and for standing up for me.”

Charlotte nods. “I guess you can go back to sleep now, unless you are expecting other guests? By the way, I nearly forgot… I brought you this from the butcher’s,” she says, almost shyly, handing him a glass bottle. “I think Mr McCullum will be thirsty when he wakes up, and you might like a drink, too.” The bottle is still warm. “I hope you like beef.”

When Jonathan wakes up a few hours later, Geoffrey’s still not moving. But he senses a faint, albeit irregular heartbeat, and there are no longer screams of pain in his head. In response, his own heart begins beating faster, and he wakes up with a start. He’s as excited as he is anxious, thinking back to his own waking-up. He just hopes that Geoffrey won’t be as blind from thirst as he’d been. The memory of that night is too painful to dwell on, however, so instead Jonathan focuses on Geoffrey’s new heartbeat, which grows more and more regular.

“Bloody thirst is worse than I’d imagined,” Geoffrey suddenly croaks.

“Complaining already?” Jonathan can’t help but grin at the hunter. “That’s my Geoffrey McCullum,” he whispers, then bends down to kiss Geoffrey on the mouth. He isn’t sure what he’d expected, but he’s still surprised that Geoffrey welcomes his tongue and doesn’t even attempt to bite him. He tastes even better than before he was turned, Jonathan thinks before breaking the kiss.

“At least you didn’t have to wake up in a pit full of rotting corpses. And I can help with the thirst,” he offers, grabbing the bottle standing right next to the bed.

“What’s this?”

“Blood. Don’t worry, Charlotte got it from the butcher’s.”

Geoffrey shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he grabs the bottle, sniffs the contents and then takes a pull from the bottle. Licking his lips, he grins at Jonathan. “Doesn’t taste half bad, this.”

“It’s better than rats,” Jonathan shrugs. “Geoffrey…” he hesitates, suddenly turning sober. “Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you? For what? Turning me?” Geoffrey shakes his head. “Think I forgot I begged you to?” He puts a hand on Jonathan’s cheek, staring into the other Ekon’s pale eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. You saved my life, and I thank you for that.”

“Technically, I didn’t save your _life_ ,” Jonathan shrugs helplessly.

“Well, I _feel_ alive, so call it what you will.”

“That’s because of the blood you’ve just drunk.”

“No, ‘s not because of the blood. ‘s because of how much I want you, Jonathan.”

“You do?” Jonathan asks, his voice unsure and almost timid. “I was afraid you’d feel different about this… about us... I was afraid you’d not remember…” He trails off.

“I remember everything. Everything that happened in the sewer, with Redgrave and Pembleton, how you finally found me… until I blacked out.”

“Ascalon will pay for it.”

“They will – but not tonight… You didn’t think I’d want to spend my first night with them rather than with you, did you?” Geoffrey whispers, wrapping his arms around Jonathan and pulling him into a tight embrace.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey's first night as an Ekon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, nothing too explicit, but I still hope you guys'll enjoy it.

“So… how are you feeling?” Jonathan asks, still holding Geoffrey close. “Is it as bad as you expected?”

“No… I mean, didn’t really think about what it’d be like… It feels strange, like I was sleeping rather than dead, I remember everything from before… everything except being dead. But – hell! – will I ever get used to this _thirst_?!” he groans.

Jonathan shrugs. “The smell of blood gets me thirsty every time, no matter how much I’ve drunk. But I guess I’ve learned to ignore it.”

“What if I can’t control it?” Geoffrey gives him a doubtful look.

“Well, you’ll have me by your side, I can always hold you back.” Jonathan hesitates when Geoffrey raises an eyebrow. “That is, if you want to have me by your side?”

“Sure I do” Geoffrey shakes his head at Jonathan’s doubts. “What I don’t know is if _anyone_ can hold me back, now that I’m the greatest vampire hunter…”

“So that’s how things are?” Jonathan gives the hunter a challenging look, careful to hide a smile. With a puff of black smoke he moves to pin Geoffrey’s body down and puts his face against his neck, gently scraping his fangs against the sensitive skin before retracting them and kissing him.

“Your leechy tricks can’t fool me, Reid,” Geoffrey smirks.

“Hm-m,” Jonathan grumbles as he continues his caresses, slightly shifting the weight of his hips, which has Geoffrey groan in pleasure. “So… any plans for your first night as an Ekon? Still no wish to visit Ascalon?”

“Not tonight… The bastards can wait.” He shrugs his shoulders at Jonathan’s apparent surprise. “You know, I don’t actually have any plans for tonight, but I’d really like to take a bath with you and… pay you back,” he grins.

“Pay me back??”

“Well… now that I have fangs of my own, I finally can.” He grins cheekily at Jonathan, who looks at him, speechless for a second, then breaks out in a roaring laughter.

“I like that,” Jonathan purrs when he finally recovers, then he gets up to run a bath. “Come here for a second?” he calls from the bathroom. “I’d like to have a look at how your injuries have healed,” he explains when Geoffrey joins him. Geoffrey lets him, knowing it’s pointless to argue with him about this. For a short moment, Jonathan is all doctor, carefully examining the hunter’s chest, back and arms, probing bones and muscles, undistracted even by the fact that Geoffrey isn’t wearing anything. “Do you feel any pain?” he asks. “The injuries seem to have healed but…”

“Jonathan, I’m fine,” Geoffrey interrupts him with a fond, almost exasperated smile. “I doesn’t hurt anymore – in fact, I feel better and stronger than I ever have. Can’t wait to find out what I can do now. And,” he looks down at himself and gives Jonathan a salacious grin, “I’m glad to see that everything still works as it should.” He pulls the other Ekon close for a kiss, putting his arms around him to grab his buttocks.

“I just hope your men won’t barge in on us again,” Jonathan says when he catches his breath again. If anyone of Priwen saw them like this, being bloodsuckers might quickly turn out to be the least of their problems.

“What, they show up? Here?!”

“Captain Richardson was here yesterday. He was… angry I killed you.”

“Is that what he thinks happened?” At Jonathan’s affirmative silence, Geoffrey shakes his head. “I hope he didn’t do anything rash.” He carefully studies Jonathan’s face. “He hit you, didn’t he?”

Jonathan nods and shrugs his shoulders.

“Silly bastard. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Don’t hold it against him, he’s…”

“I won’t. But please do tell him that I didn’t turn you against your will. As a matter of fact,” Jonathan sighs, “please make sure that the other Priwen guards know as well. I’d hate to be on their list again.”

“I’ll have to make sure first not to end on their list meself. Anyway,” Geoffrey turns to the tub, “we can worry about that later.”

Jonathan’s heart beats a tad faster at that pronoun. We. He gives the hunter a warm smile. “Yes. And let’s not let the bath get cold.”

Geoffrey steps in first and leans back in the hot water with a relaxed sigh. He watches Jonathan take off his pants, feeling excitement rise in his guts as the other Ekon gingerly sits down between his legs with his back to him. As soon as Jonathan leans back, Geoffrey wraps his arms around him and puts his face against his shoulder. Very carefully, he sinks the tips of his fangs into the soft flesh.

“You’re an impatient bugger” Jonathan groans.

Geoffrey just hums contentedly as he licks off the droplets of blood. His body instantly reacts to the taste, a sweet and heavy, full warmth that has him moan in pleasure and anticipation, and he knows that he’ll never get enough of this man or his blood. Placing soft kisses on Jonathan’s shoulder and neck, Geoffrey moves his face to where the other man’s scent is strongest. “May I? Please?” he begs after a short moment, his lips close to Jonathan’s ear and his voice so husky it’s barely audible. Jonathan doesn’t reply but slowly tilts his head, offering Geoffrey access to his throat. The hunter licks his lips, then he bites, breaking the skin. He savours every drop, drinking slowly but deeply. Jonathan moans both in pain and pleasure, and Geoffrey feels him tense slightly, his heart beating faster. Retracting his fangs and licking the drops of blood off Jonathan’s throat before the tiny wounds close, Geoffrey moves a hand over his chest and down his belly to stroke him gently between his legs.

Jonathan lets his head drop back against the hunter’s shoulder, moaning quietly as he enjoys Geoffrey’s caresses. He has no idea how long they’ve sat there when the hunter finally moves.

“Water’s getting cold, let’s wash and go to bed.”

Jonathan is almost disappointed when Geoffrey tells him to get up, fearing for a second that the hunter has already grown tired of the lovemaking, but as soon as Geoffrey runs his soapy hands over his shoulders, back and buttocks, he knows that’s not the case. The hunter’s touch is confident and bold, and when he steps closer, Jonathan feels his hard dick against his thighs. Geoffrey’s intimate ministrations arouse him, but they’re also strangely comforting – he’s always kept his distance to people, even to those he loves and trusts with his life, but Geoffrey’s closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion at all, on the contrary.

“Want me to wash your hair, too?” Geoffrey asks him, interrupting his thoughts. Jonathan nods. “All right, sit down then, get the soap off you.”

While Jonathan reclines in the warm water once more, Geoffrey quickly washes himself, realising that he quite enjoys the other Ekon’s scrutinising gaze. Finally, he rinses off the foam and steps out of the tub, grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist before bending down to gently push Jonathan under water to wet his hair.

“I’ve never done this, so better close your eyes if you don’t want soap in ‘em,” he warns. Jonathan smiles to himself. He’s perfectly at ease, even though this is another of those things so intimate he should feel uncomfortable about it. He closes his eyes while Geoffrey washes his hair, a tad clumsily – not because he’s afraid of getting soap in his eyes but because he loves the way the other Ekon treats him.

“You know, Geoffrey, actually I should be the one to… take care of you. After all, you’re the one who just woke up a vampire,” he muses.

Geoffrey grunts. “You’ve been taking care of me for a while now, ‘bout time I paid you back in that respect, too. So, don’t worry. And now close your eyes while I wash that soap off you,” he says before he rinses Jonathan’s hair with fresh water. “Now come,” he says as Jonathan dries himself off, “I want to go to bed with you. And don’t bother getting dressed,” he adds, grinning.

“Perhaps we should let Elisabeth know that you’ve…”

“She’ll hear,” Geoffrey laughs. “Please, Jonathan, I don’t care about her, or Ascalon, or even Priwen right now. Just come to bed, dammit!” he growls, grabs Jonathan’s elbow and pulls him towards the bed.

Day’s already breaking when Geoffrey rolls off Jonathan, panting. He licks his lips. “I still can’t really fathom how you can keep your thirst in check, how you could be around me and not bite me,” Geoffrey wonders, giving Jonathan a strange look.

“If I had, I doubt you’d ever trusted me, Geoffrey McCullum.” He puts a hand on Geoffrey’s cheek. “You wouldn’t have, would you?”

Geoffrey grins. “Think you might be right about that. Though I have to admit that you did intrigue me from the first time I met you, leech. You know, always thought _I_ was stubborn, but I’m beginning to think _you_ might be even worse, hangin’ around Priwen and their leader even though I constantly offended and tried to kill you. You know I would have killed you in the attic, Jonathan.”

“Aye, I do. Good thing I’m the better hunter and so sensible then, no matter how stubborn, right?” Jonathan bends over Geoffrey to kiss him, deeply.

“Oh, you’ll soon see that you’re no match for me, Johnny,” Geoffrey grins when they break the kiss. “You’ll come to Ascalon with me, won’t you?” he adds after a while.

“Do you really need to ask that?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “You know I will. I have as much reason to go there as you, I want to make them pay for what they did to you, won’t ever forgive Redgrave for what…”

Geoffrey puts a finger on his lips. “Don’t want to talk about that bastard now. I’ll tell you all about it, but not now. Come here,” he whispers, pulls Jonathan close and puts an arm on his chest. “We’ll need some energy if we want to screw Ascalon, won’t we?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Richardson comes round for a visit and there's a medical emergency which leads to another sleepover at Priwen.

“Good morning,” Geoffrey mumbles. He doesn’t open his eyes, just moves closer to Jonathan, wraps his arm around him and sighs contentedly.

“Sleep well?” Jonathan inquires, smiling privately at the hunter’s peaceful features.

“I did.” Geoffrey hums happily. “Thank you for keeping your promise, Jonathan,” he says after a moment. “You were there when I woke up.”

Jonathan hesitates. “You know… if not for Charlotte, I probably wouldn’t have. When… when you were turning, I was feeling your pain, and heard you screaming in my head, and I just couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Redgrave had done to you, I just wanted to kill him… Charlotte stopped me, she…” He swallows hard but doesn’t continue.

“Hard to think that Charlotte seems to have been the only one who kept a cool head,” Geoffrey grins. He can’t help but feel sorry when he sees Jonathan’s obvious guilt. “You stayed, that’s what matters.” And it’s true. He would have wanted to take revenge, too, if their places had been reversed. “I’m glad you didn’t kill Redgrave – wouldn’t have wanted you to start at the Ascalon Club without me, you know. Either way,” he continues after a short pause, “I first of all need to sort out things with Priwen.”

“Shall I wait for you here?” Jonathan asks.

“No,” Geoffrey shakes his head. “I’d like you to come with me. I have to tell Fred about Ascalon, and I need him to understand why you… why I asked you to turn me. And I don’t want to recount that night twice,” he mutters, and a dark shadow crosses his features. “Besides, I don’t really trust myself, so you have to make sure nothing bad’ll happen, what with my thirst and all.”

“What about Ascalon then?”

“We’ll see. I’d rather get used to being a leech before we pay them a visit. What can they do anyway? Nowhere they can run where we won’t find them. And even if they recruit all the monsters of London into their bloody club, I’ll still kill Redgrave and Pembleton.”

Jonathan nods. He’d prefer to see them dead sooner rather than later, but Geoffrey is right. Adjusting to his new powers and abilities will take some time, and since they have enough of that, there’s no need to hurry things. They should, however, be getting up. He sits up, but when he turns to sit on the side of the bed, Geoffrey grabs him from behind.

“I know we’ve got to get up, talk to Elisabeth, go to Priwen headquarters – but… we do have another ten minutes or so before that, don’t we?” He kisses Jonathan on the shoulder. It’s a suggestion, not a question.

“You hungry?” Jonathan asks.

Geoffrey shrugs his shoulders. Of course he’s hungry. He licks his lips. “Feeding isn’t what I had in mind,” he replies, gently pushing Jonathan back on the mattress. As soon as he moves to sit astride Jonathan’s hips, he feels the other Ekon react to the touch. The kiss they share is deep and tender at first but soon becomes more hungry and fierce.

“Turn around,” Geoffrey whispers huskily when he breaks the kiss, lips bruised from the stubble on Jonathan’s chin.

Turning to lie on his stomach, Jonathan closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Geoffrey’s lips and skin against his. He groans contentedly, feeling the blood pool in his crotch as Geoffrey slowly makes his way down from his shoulders, across his back, to his buttocks. His breath is stuck in his throat when the hunter puts both hands firmly on his buttocks and bites him gently, grazing his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

“ _Christ_ , Geoffrey,” he moans.

Before Geoffrey can reply, there’s a knock on the door. Both Ekons stiffen immediately.

“Jonathan?” It’s Elisabeth’s voice just outside the door. She knows better than to come inside, their blood telling her exactly what they’re up to. “I really hate to disturb you, but it’s somewhat urgent. One of the Priwen captains is here, he’s adamant about seeing you two.”

Geoffrey swears as he rolls off Jonathan. “Please tell him we’ll be with him in a moment, would you?” he says towards the door and then turns to Jonathan. “You don’t happen to have any spare clothes, do you?” he asks, making a face.

“I’ve actually brought you something to wear.” It’s Elisabeth again. Of course she heard him. “May I come in?” she asks when she senses that both Ekons finally got out of bed. She hears Geoffrey grunt something like a yes, so she slowly opens the door, careful to hide a smile.

Both men look at her, their faces still glowing with excitement, a tad embarrassed, as if they’d been caught red-handed. Jonathan is wearing pants, while Geoffrey has hurriedly put on Reid’s trousers, which are a bit too tight for him. She gives both of them a warm smile, still careful not to laugh, then she turns to Geoffrey. “Mr McCullum, I’m so glad you’re all right!”

The hunter blushes a little bit, sensing that she really means it. “Please, call me Geoffrey.”

She takes his outstretched hand, smiling. “Elisabeth.” Although most unseemly and improper, the situation strangely enough doesn’t feel awkward to either of them. “Like I said, it’s good to have you back, Geoffrey,” she says before she turns to Jonathan, deciding to give her friend a hug even though he is only half dressed.

“Thank you very much for everything,” Jonathan says quietly, happy to return the hug. “I don’t know what I would have done without you and Charlotte.”

“You’re very welcome. Both of you. Anyhow, Captain Richardson is waiting in the drawing room. And here are some clothes – I hope they fit.” She turns to leave the room. “I have things to do, so I won’t be here tonight. Do make yourselves at home though, please.”

Jonathan nods his thanks. It’s obvious that she’s only leaving because she doesn’t want to seem like an intruder, even though this is her house. He’s grateful for it. The fewer leeches Fred has to deal with, the better, he muses.

“Do I look presentable?” Geoffrey asks when they’ve finished getting dressed.

“Well, I guess it’d be worse if you wore one of Elisabeth’s dresses…” Jonathan gives him an exaggeratedly sceptical look. “Nothing we can do about that ugly mug of yours, though,” he says, still keeping a straight face.

“Oh yeah? Well, thanks to you it’s now a pale ugly mug, leech!” Geoffrey retorts. He sounds annoyed.

“Hm-m,” Jonathan hums. “You are pale indeed. Should have a doctor look at this…” he mumbles and puts a hand on Geoffrey’s face and gently brushes a thumb over his cheek.

“Oh, I won’t start worrying until I look as shite as you, Dr Reid,” Geoffrey says, giving Jonathan a challenging look.

Jonathan shakes his head, then he laughs. “All right, McCullum, you win. You look adorable.”

“Aye, I do, don’t I!” Geoffrey smiles triumphantly, but then his features darken. “Do I very much look like a leech?”

“If your captain is any good, he’ll recognise the pallor, yes. But your eyes are hardly changed, and you’ve drunk enough blood to retract your fangs. He’s a reasonable man, I think, so I’d be surprised if he didn’t hear you out.”

Geoffrey sighs. “We’ll see.”

Fred jumps when they enter the drawing room. He’s been sitting on the sofa, awfully anxious to see his leader alive, yet afraid of what he’s become. “Geoffrey!” he cries, genuinely relieved and happy to see the other man stand on his own two feet. He takes a step towards him, then hesitates.

“Fred, I’m glad to see you,” Geoffrey says, noticing the other man’s quickened heartbeat. “Don’t worry, I won’t attack you,” he says a bit more certain than he really is.

“I’d hug you, Geoff, but – no offense, you’re a newborn lee… vampire, don’t want to throw all of Priwen’s principles over board just yet.” Fred gives him a wry smile. “You look fine, though, I give you that. Tad pale, perhaps.” Truth be told, he’s surprised at Geoffrey’s restraint. He’s never seen any newborn bloodsucker – other than Dr Reid – behave like this. “Is it true that you asked Dr Reid to turn you?” he finally asks. No point in delaying the inevitable.

“Yes, I did.” Geoffrey sighs, taking a seat opposite the sofa, motioning for the captain to sit down. “It was that or being tortured to death by Ascalon – and, to be perfectly honest, I preferred to live.” He shrugs his shoulders. They both know that from the day he joined the Priwen Guard, he’d always been prepared to die, and coming close to it more than once. But this here wasn’t about dying in battle. “They singled me out because they wanted to punish Jonathan for not turning Dawson.”

“Singled you out? Why?” Fred asks, furrowing his brows.

“They knew we’re… close.” Geoffrey refuses to feel ashamed about it, and he looks directly at Fred.

The Priwen captain doesn’t react to that, though. “So what did they do to you?” he asks instead.

Geoffrey leans back, closing his eyes. Even the memories of those damned two nights hurt. “Caught me off guard,” he simply says when he continues. “Knocked me out cold, dragged me to the sewers, kicked me around a bit…” He remembers their cold hands on him, their remarks on how he apparently likes being touched by men, their dirty grins and the things they said about Jonathan, how they were going to kill him, too. He remembers their calculated violence, the seemingly endless vicious beating, their punches and kicks, how he began to cough blood when a broken rib punctured one of his lungs, how he wet himself because of the pain and the fear. And just when he thought they were done with him, they’d bound his hands behind his back, put a bag over his head and then strung him up by the ankles. Their beating continued then, even more brutal than before, aiming mostly at his midsection and his spine. He remembers it, but when he tells about it, the words are repeatedly stuck in his throat, and by the end of his account, his voice has grown so low it’s barely audible. “I felt like I was suffocatin’ on me own blood, hanging from me feet… So when Jonathan found me shortly after, I just wanted him to end the fuckin’ pain…” Geoffrey wipes a hand over his face. “Jonathan isn’t to blame for any of this, Fred, you do understand that, don’t you?”

Fred nods, unable to say anything. “Can I have a drink, please?” he finally croaks.

Jonathan, who’s stood motionless behind Geoffrey’s chair the whole time, moves to pour the captain a whisky. He could use one himself. When he hands the glass to Fred, both his and the captain’s hands are shaking. “If it wasn’t for me, they’d never have singled you out,” he mutters, unwilling to look at the hunter.

“Bollocks!” To Jonathan’s surprise, it’s Fred who interrupts him. “You think we’ve been best friends with Ascalon before you came along, Dr Reid?” he growls. “Those bastards never needed you to give them an excuse to grab one of us and torture him. In fact,” he hisses, “we should probably be grateful that you were there to save Geoff’s life.”

“Didn’t save his… life,” Jonathan mumbles.

“Well, whatever, Doctor – he seems pretty alive to me, so I don’t really care what you call it. Look, before you, I thought all you leeches were the same.” Fred hesitates. “I’ve begun to see that I was wrong about that, and I was wrong about you last night. I guess, if anyone is able to sire a civilised Ekon, it must be you, Dr Reid – and we all know that Geoffrey can be a daft bugger sometimes, so that’s quite an achievement.” He gives both Ekons a disarming smile, half hoping that he hasn’t gone too far with that remark.

Jonathan laughs. “Yes, we do know that,” he says, looking at Geoffrey. The hunter growls in reply, baring his fangs at him. In Jonathan’s eyes, this makes him all the more desirable, and he suddenly realises how grateful he is that Geoffrey drank his blood, and voluntarily. He’s also glad he hadn’t earlier known what Redgrave and Pembleton had done to the hunter, otherwise Charlotte might not have been able to stop him.

Fred can’t help but notice the affection in Jonathan’s gaze; he’s a bit embarrassed by it and nervously clears his throat. “Will you stay leader of the Priwen Guard, Geoffrey?”

Geoffrey sighs. He’s thought about that before. “Will you even have me as your leader?” he finally asks.

Fred shrugs his shoulders. “If you can keep your thirst in check as well as Dr Reid, I don’t really see why not – granted you still hunt leeches. I have no idea what the men’ll do when they find out, though. Personally, I think you should tell them. Explain what happened at Ascalon… Hell, I don’t know – they may want to kick you out of the Guard.”

“What if I can prove to them that I’m no threat to them?” Geoffrey asks. He’d hate to have to leave his men. “Clean out Ascalon, fight leeches… and abstain from drinking from humans?”

“Give them time.” It’s Jonathan, who quietly speaks after a while. “They’ll have a hard time accepting you’ve become what you’ve hunted and hated almost all your life, Geoffrey. Maybe we could disappear for a few days, train your leechy abilities…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, unsure himself whether this is a good idea.

“Well, you meant to go to Scotland anyway, didn’t you?” Fred shrugs his shoulders. “I can at least explain your absence at Priwen.”

Geoffrey sighs. Being a vampire already seems too complicated for his liking. But going away with Jonathan for a few days to practice his new abilities seems like a good plan. In fact, he suddenly realises, there’s little he needs to be afraid of. With Jonathan by his side, he could accept even being thrown out of the Priwen Guard. And it’s not like anyone could stop him from doing what he wants, now, anyway. “Yeah, please do. I know you’ll look after the boys while I’m away,” Geoffrey says, getting up. He pours Fred another drink, seeing that the captain needs it. “Damn, I wish I could still drink this.” He looks so disappointed that Fred laughs.

“Well, it seems you becoming a blooddrinker has some advantages after all… more quality booze for the rest of us!” The captain is relieved that things went so well, that his friend is all right, that Jonathan didn’t, after all, betray him… “So, you really can’t drink anything but blood?”

Fred has lots of questions, and, thanks to Elisabeth’s whisky, he isn’t hesitant to ask them, so when he takes his leave, more or less satisfied by the answers he’s been given, it’s long past midnight.

Geoffrey is just about to drag Jonathan towards the bedroom, when the doorbell rings, startling both of them.

“Well, aren’t you going to open the door?” Geoffrey asks after a few seconds, looking at Jonathan. Elisabeth still hasn’t come home, and Jonathan feels uncomfortable acting like this was his own home. “Maybe it’s Fred, might have forgotten something? Or Elisabeth?”

“Why would she ring her own doorbell,” Jonathan shakes his head, still unwilling to check, when the bell rings again.

“It’s probably important,” Geoffrey shrugs his shoulders, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Go on, I’ll wait for you right here.”

It’s Fred all right, but he’s not alone.

“Doctor Reid!” he pants, a young Priwen guard standing right next to him. Jonathan smells the blood on the young man right away. “We need your help, a patrol’s been attacked by sewer beasts, got three wounded, two of them serious.”

“When did this happen? And where are the wounded?” Jonathan asks. This is a situation, at least, he’s familiar and comfortable with.

“Brought them back to Priwen, I came here right away because Captain Richardson said he’d be here,” the young man stammers. “Attacked us no more’n ten minutes ago, I think.” Adrenaline is still pumping in his veins, and Jonathan senses his racing heart. “You did good, coming here,” he says, trying to comfort the distressed guard. “Geoffrey, we have work to do,” he calls over his shoulder.

When Geoffrey joins them at the door, the young guard looks at him in surprise. “Good evening, Mr McCullum, I didn’t know…”

“Where were you attacked?” Geoffrey interrupts him, a dangerous glare in his eyes. “If the beasts are still there, we’ll have to take care of them.” He turns to Jonathan. “You’ll manage?” he asks.

Jonathan nods. “Please take care, Geoffrey,” he says in a low voice, forcing himself not to reach out and touch the other Ekon.

The hunter grins at him, a tad too confident for Jonathan’s liking. “I’ll meet you at HQ afterwards.”

Good thing it’s not morning yet, Jonathan thinks as he and Fred hurry towards the Priwen premises. And good thing the streets are quiet, nobody holds them up. Once they arrive at the gate, it’s easy to follow the tracks of the fresh blood. The amount of it on the pavement has Jonathan expect the worst, though.

“I will probably need your medics’ help,” he says to Fred when they enter the infirmary. Priwen’s medics are already there, taking care of a man lying on a stretcher, thrashing about and screaming, while another is lying on a stretcher next to him, motionless. A third man is standing close by, his arm being bandaged by one of the other guards. He looks distressed, unable to tear his gaze from the screaming man. Jonathan tells him to leave the room, ordering the other guard to take care of him and get him to bed. “If anything happens or if he should suddenly feel worse, come and get me at once,” he says before turning to the two medics.

“Dr Reid, thank God you’re here,” one of them says, breathlessly. He’s covered in blood, which makes it harder for Jonathan to focus on the wounded man in front of him. “We couldn’t do anything for Miller, he’d bled out by the time he got here.”

Jonathan nods, trying not to breathe. “Given him morphine?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves.

The medics nod.

Before he begins, Jonathan takes a second to comfort the wounded man, stroking over his head, telling him that he’ll be fine and that the pain will soon subside. The two medics look at each other. They expected him to be professional about this, but not to really care.

Jonathan doesn’t notice. “All right, let’s see what we have.” He quickly cuts open the man’s shirt to get access to the wounds. “You don’t mind assisting me?” he asks, already concentrating on the injuries. Both men shake their heads. In fact, they’re glad that a proper doctor is there to help them.

Jonathan works fast and efficiently, and both medics do their best to assist. Still, when they’re finally done, it’s already morning, and the sun’s risen. Good thing one of the Priwen guards standing around to watch them work remembered to close the curtains.

“Can you please finish bandaging him up?” Jonathan is so exhausted he can barely stand, and the lingering smell of blood isn’t helping one bit.

“Yes, of course.” The medics are tired themselves, but at least the sun doesn’t dull their senses as bad as Jonathan’s. “You will stay though, Dr Reid, won’t you? So you can check on him again tonight? Please?”

He nods, then goes to the sink to wash his hands and arms. “I’ll be in McCullum’s office if you need me,” he sighs, hoping they’ll at least let him sleep for a few hours.

* * *

“Jonathan!” Geoffrey exclaims when Jonathan stumbles through the door.

Jonathan is relieved that the hunter’s already there, and apparently unharmed.

“I watched you work, didn’t want to disturb you though. Besides, I still don’t like the sight of guts and gore, so I thought I’d wait for you here. Come on, there’s warm water to wash.” He leads Jonathan to the basin, then helps him take off the bloody shirt. There’s dried blood all over Jonathan’s face and neck. Geoffrey can’t help but notice its deliciously sweet smell, but he refuses to even think about licking any off Jonathan’s skin, it’s one of his own men who nearly died, after all. Instead, he carefully wipes it off.

“Thanks for helping us, Jonathan,” he murmurs, still concentrating on washing the blood off.

Jonathan only hums in reply, too tired to speak.

“All right, let’s get you to bed,” Geoffrey says, a soft smile on his lips. Jonathan is already half asleep when he guides him to the bed, sits him down on the mattress and takes off his shoes, socks and trousers before undressing himself. He crawls under the blanket and moves close to the other Ekon, falling asleep himself the second he wraps an arm around Jonathan.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Scotland, finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took me so long; I'll try to get the next part done faster. I feel like this might be a boring read, so I'll do my best to make the next chapter more... exciting.  
> As always, thanks for comments and suggestions!

Geoffrey is glad to find himself waking in his own bed the next evening. For a second he wonders whether the previous few nights might just have been an awful nightmare, but sensing Jonathan’s heartbeat right next to him, he quickly understands that they weren’t. He turns to lie on his side and moves closer to the other Ekon. He remembers the first night Jonathan spent here, in his bed, lying next to him, how he’d wanted to touch him but hadn’t dared.

“You awake?” he asks, running a hand over Jonathan’s cool skin. He only gets a low grumble in reply. “Still tired?”

“L’me sleep, McCullum,” Jonathan mumbles.

“It’s already dark outside,” Geoffrey says, kissing him on the neck.

“Don’t care, don’t want to get up anyway.” Jonathan sounds almost annoyed.

“Want to continue where we left off last night?” the hunter asks, trying not to sound too eager.

“Wha?”

Geoffrey puts a hand on Jonathan’s pants to stroke his buttocks, which finally gets him a more vivid reaction.

“Geoffrey,” Jonathan groans, sounding more awake now and turning to face the hunter, “can’t you let a man sleep? Just once?”

Geoffrey shrugs helplessly, but he removes his hand.

Jonathan regrets it immediately. “What if your men decide they need you? Or me?” he asks.

“They won’t. Besides, they’ll knock first.” In fact, Geoffrey isn’t sure about that last bit, on the contrary, but he doesn’t really care right now. “I want you,” he says, his voice suddenly growing darker.

Jonathan blushes slightly at his admission. “Please take it slow, though, I really am still tired,” he finally says.

“I- I can let you sleep, if you want to.” Geoffrey feels almost guilty now for having woken the other Ekon.

Jonathan doesn’t fail to notice Geoffrey’s sudden unease. “No… I prefer you to sleeping,” he mutters and leans in to kiss Geoffrey on the mouth. He enjoys the hunter’s touch, the feeling of his calloused hands. “How’d it go last night?” he asks, suddenly remembering that Geoffrey had been out fighting.

“Two sewer beasts. Killed them – the traditional way, though.” Geoffrey gives him a smug grin before he moves to straddle Jonathan. He does take it slow, gently sucking on Jonathan’s throat before moving across his chest down to his belly. Jonathan is clearly enjoying his caresses, going by his low moans and the bulge in his pants. For a second, Geoffrey looks up at him, watching his closed eyes, his half-open lips, and he can’t help but smile at the image.

Jonathan’s breath stops when Geoffrey slowly pulls down his pants and kisses the insides of his thighs until he reaches his balls. He bites his lower lip when he feels Geoffrey’s mouth close around his dick, the stubble of his beard rubbing against the sensitive skin between his legs. He tastes his own blood and moans, reaching for Geoffrey’s hair. For a split second he wonders if Geoffrey will taste different, now that he’s an Ekon.

“Damn, you taste good,” Geoffrey whispers, almost as if he’s followed Jonathan’s train of thought. “Never thought that…” he continues, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Geoffrey?” Fred calls out, waiting in front of the door. “Are you awake?”

Jonathan groans in frustration, while Geoffrey swears through his teeth, sighs and crawls off Jonathan. “You just stay, might get a few minutes of sleep out of this,” he says softly, disappointment clearly showing on his face.

“At least he had the decency to knock,” Jonathan says.

Geoffrey just rolls his eyes, then he puts the blanket back over Jonathan’s body and tucks him in. Walking to the door, he hopes that his hard-on isn’t too obvious.

“For fuck’s sake, what is it?” he growls when he opens the door.

Fred gives him an uneasy and embarrassed look. “I’m really sorry to disturb you, but we need to talk about last night. And the medics begged me to ask Dr Reid if he’d please have another look at our casualties before he’s off.”

“You didn’t seriously think that Dr Reid would leave without first checking on his patients, did you? That why you woke us? You’re afraid we’re just leaving?” Geoffrey seems genuinely pissed off at his captain.

“No, of course I didn’t. I was just… worried after last night,” Fred helplessly shrugs his shoulders. “I thought that with the epidemic more or less over, things would start getting better, but those fuckin’ beasts seem more aggressive than ever, and Ascalon, too, obviously, and with you having become a bloodsucker yourself…” He swallows hard. “I’m worried that we may not be able to handle things, y’know.”

“All right, we’ll talk,” Geoffrey sighs. “But can I please get dressed first?”

Fred nods. He knows he caught Geoffrey at an awkward moment, and he feels bad about it. “I’m still not used to you not being alone,” he says. “Apologies for bargin’ in on yous like that.”

* * *

When Jonathan enters the infirmary a few minutes later, one of the medics jumps up to greet him. “Dr Reid!” he exclaims, stretching out a hand. “Thanks so much for helpin’ us with Henry last night, Sir. We wouldn’t’ve been able to save ‘im if it hadn’t been for you.”

Jonathan takes his outstretched hand. “Glad I could help.”

“Never thought a leech – I mean, er, a vampire, would… care about… about our lads.”

“I’m a doctor, not just a leech,” Jonathan shrugs. “How is he?” he points his head at the man lying on one of the beds.

“Not so good, he’s feverish and restless. I meant to let him sleep, but whenever I try to leave he begins to thrash about, moaning and all, callin’ for his mum.”

“Let me take over for a while then, while you get some rest,” Jonathan says, seeing how exhausted the medic is. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name last night?”

“It’s Lewis, Sir. Thank ye for watchin’ ‘im for a bit, I’ll be back in an hour or two.” The medic turns around, then hesitates. “May I ask you something, Dr Reid? How do you… why didn’t you bite, with all that blood everywhere? I saw you was thirsty.”

Jonathan grits his teeth but decides to give the man an honest answer. “I always get terribly thirsty when I smell blood, especially when there’s so much of it. I try not to breathe, that makes it easier.” He looks almost guilty. “It must be horrifying for you to have a leech in your headquarters.”

“Aye, a bit,” the medic admits. “Though last night I was very glad to have you around. You know, as you seem to have your, er, cravings under control, we should probably keep you as a doctor.”

Jonathan snorts – the notion of Priwen having a vampire as doctor is ridiculous, though judging by Lewis’ facial expression the medic might be only half joking about it. “We’ll see,” he simply says. Turning to check on the wounded man, Jonathan is relieved to detect no signs of infection. He takes a seat next to the bed. The movement gets the wounded guard’s attention, and he opens his eyes a bit, giving him a dazed look.

“Mum?” he croaks.

Jonathan swallows hard as he looks in the young man’s face. The situation is a painful reminder of the war, of the countless wounded soldiers he had on his operating table, both friend and foe, crying for their mothers, delirious and writhing in pain… “You’ll be fine,” he whispers and puts a hand on the man’s forehead. The guard groans in pain, but the touch seems to soothe him a little, and his breathing becomes more even.

From time to time, Jonathan holds a glass of water to his lips and lets him drink, runs a hand through his hair and dries the sweat off his forehead, talks to him or simply grabs his hand to offer some comfort. The hours pass, he watches the man drift in and out of sleep, wondering where Geoffrey might be, feeling irritation rise at being stuck here yet another night until he convinces himself that one night more or less doesn’t make much of a difference, and he’s needed here more than elsewhere. Still, he’s relieved when the door opens and he picks up a familiar scent.

“Geoffrey! Where’ve you been all night?” he asks, hearing the worry in his voice.

“Sorry I left you alone,” Geoffrey says, stepping behind him. “I told the men.”

“Told them what? That you’re an Ekon??”

Geoffrey nods. “I didn’t mean to, but it seems like I couldn’t hide it during my fight with the sewer beasts last night.”

“How did they take it?”

“They, uh, didn’t try to kill me,” Geoffrey shrugs. “Carl and Lewis said _you_ were all right, as leeches go, and so did Duncan… suggested to give me a chance, since apparently some Ekons don’t behave like proper fuckin’ bloodsuckers.” He sighs. “Look, I don’t know what they’ll do, kick me out of the Guard, keep me as their leader… I’m just glad they heard me out and let me explain why you turned me.” He swallows, looking away. It wasn’t easy, and, to tell the truth, he had been scared. If it hadn’t been for Fred, Duncan and the two medics, who reminded the others of the countless times Jonathan had helped them despite everything, his men might not have been so forgiving. Still, it’s true that he has no idea what they’ll decide. “They’ll have some time to think about it. That is, if you still want to go away for a few days?”

Jonathan nods. He’s not sure whether or not he’s glad that Priwen knows about Geoffrey’s turning, but he’s relieved that they do seem to be surprisingly reasonable after all.

“How is he?” Geoffrey asks, looking at the wounded guard. Clearly, he doesn’t want to dwell on the subject of his future at Priwen.

“Better. Fever’s gone down a bit, and the wounds haven’t become infected.”

Geoffrey nods. He tries not to breathe, the smell of blood still lingering heavily in the air. Losing control here, and with one of his own men would very quickly decide his fate with Priwen – and it’s definitely not something he wants on his conscience.

Jonathan senses his discomfort. “Let’s go hunt, shall we? I’m hungry, too.”

* * *

It’s almost dawn when they come back to Priwen. Jonathan feels a bit uneasy about sleeping at the Guard’s headquarters, but both he and Geoffrey felt bad about bothering Elisabeth again, and they definitely didn’t want to spend the night at the Pembroke. For a second, Jonathan considered taking Geoffrey to his own home, but he realised that his mother would get terribly worried if he showed up now, after having told her he had important business in Scotland and would be away for a few days.

“Will you wait up for me while I check on Henry?” he asks in a low voice.

Geoffrey nods. He didn’t expect any less of Jonathan, but it still surprises him how the doctor actually cares about the guards, even though they had done their best to end his existence.

When Jonathan comes to his room after about half an hour, Geoffrey has already washed himself and is lying in bed.

“You smell of blood,” he says.

“And you said you’d wait up.”

“I did, I’m not sleeping.” Geoffrey sits up. “There’s warm water, thought you might want to wash after takin’ down those disgustin’ Skals.”

“Hm-m, thanks.” Jonathan sounds exhausted. “Give me a hand?” he asks, looking at the hunter as he takes off his coat.

Geoffrey swings his legs out of bed. “Sure, four hands are bound to be faster than two.” They’re both tired, feeling the sun rising. “Come ‘ere,” Geoffrey says, unbuttoning Jonathan’s shirt and taking it off. For once he’s quite efficient, gently rubbing the other Ekon’s back, as usual being especially careful on the large scar. When Geoffrey moves to wash his chest, Jonathan takes the opportunity to lean in for a kiss. He puts a hand on the hunter’s cheek, his touch loving and strangely hesitant.

“You all right?” Geoffrey asks.

“Yeah,” Jonathan sighs. “It’s just… Henry reminded me of the trenches,” he eventually admits.

“He’ll be fine though, thanks to you.” Geoffrey pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him. “Look, Jonathan, you’re a good man… I know I said and did lots of nasty things to you and all, but – I’m just really glad you’re here, helpin’ us, y’know. Fuckin’ war…” he mutters through his teeth.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Jonathan apologises. He feels very stupid.

“Don’t even start it. It’s all right, you should know that by now. Come on, let’s go to bed, Johnny.”

Jonathan gives him a wry smile. “My mum calls me Johnny.”

“So? Now come on. I did miss you tonight, couldn’t stop thinking about what I want to do to you.” The hunter grins and grabs Jonathan’s arm, dragging him towards the bed. “I know you’re tired,” he laughs before Jonathan can complain, “I promise I’ll let you sleep.”

* * *

“I still can’t believe we made it,” Geoffrey mumbles when they enter Euston station the next evening.

Jonathan shrugs his shoulders. “Train’s not even here yet. Your boys might still show up because of some emergency or other.”

Geoffrey rolls his eyes. “Please don’t say that. You know I constantly worry about the lads as it is – I’d rather not go if-“

“They’ll be fine. Stop worrying, Geoffrey.” Jonathan reassuringly puts a hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

“Well, yeah… I guess they will be.” Geoffrey gives him a tired smile. “Speaking of which – thanks again for making sure that Henry will be fine.”

“That’s quite all right. It’s my job, you know that.”

Geoffrey shakes his head, giving the doctor an exasperated look. He knows it isn’t really part of Reid’s job, at all. But he’s grateful that Jonathan is so dedicated and loyal. Leaning close to the other Ekon, he whispers: “That’s my man.”

Jonathan’s heartrate spikes at those words, and it takes all of his willpower not to pull Geoffrey into an embrace. He looks around sheepishly, but none of the other travellers pay them any mind. “Let’s go, wouldn’t want to miss the train,” he finally says, slinging his bag over his shoulders.

When they reach the platform, a young man in uniform walks up to them to check their tickets. Both Ekons immediately register how pale and frail he looks, even though he clearly isn’t a leech. His gloved hand is trembling slightly when he takes the tickets.

“Th-th-thank you,” he stutters, giving it back. “Y-y-your ca-carriage is the s-s-second one.” He breathes heavily when he finally manages to finish the sentence and is clearly embarrassed by the impediment, but he gives both Ekons a friendly smile. As he guides them to their carriage, he looks about himself as if hunted and unconsciously keeps scratching his right arm. No blood is coursing through it, as both Geoffrey and Jonathan can’t fail to notice.

“Amputation giving you trouble?” Jonathan asks quietly.

The young man blushes. “Sorry, I-“

“It’s all right,” Jonathan cuts him off, a sympathetic look on his face. “I can give you something to soothe the skin,” Jonathan offers, hasting to add that he’s a doctor, and before the other man can reply anything, he already rummages through his bag, searching for the medical supplies without which he apparently won’t go anywhere.

“I’ll wait inside,” Geoffrey says in a low voice, feeling that this is something between doctor and patient, and he doesn’t want to seem too curious. He is proud of “his man,” though, and when he picks up his bag to step into the train, he puts a hand on Jonathan’s back. The touch is slight and inconspicuous, but Jonathan understands its meaning right away.

The young man sees it, too, although that goes unnoticed by the two Ekons. He looks at Geoffrey’s broad form disappearing in the train, then at the doctor, who’s still bent over his bag.

“Accident?” Jonathan asks, still not noticing the man’s curious gaze.

“War,” the other replies in a quiet voice. “You served, too?”

Jonathan looks up, finally having found what he was looking for and handing the young man a small jar. “Hm-m, France,” he nods. “Ointment should help with the itch.”

“Th-thank you very much,” the young man says, voice barely above a whisper. “Got the f-fuckin’ stutter in Ypres, endless fuckin’ arty b-b-barrage, and lost me arm soon after.” His voice has suddenly grown dark, and Jonathan is somewhat surprised by his sudden confession. “M-makes working hard, here. P-p-people m-mostly won’t understand.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You made it home unsc- unscathed?”

“Unscathed?” Jonathan snorts derisively, though his anger isn’t directed at the young train manager. “Doubt any of us got out of that unscathed. I was lucky, though, only got a few scratches. And the nightmares, obviously.”

“Aye, nightmares,” the lad repeats. He seems almost lost in thought, then suddenly looks Jonathan straight in the eyes. “Sir,” he says, “the t-train is not f-f-fully b-booked. You’re in a c-com-compartment w-with a couple, though. I c-can get you another one, if you w-want.”

Jonathan looks at him in surprise. “Why?” he asks, trying not to sound wary.

The young man shrugs his shoulders. “You s-s-seem like you c-could use some sleep. I’ll make sure you and your f-friend are not d-disturbed, so you c-could get some rest until you g-g-get to Scotland.” He gives Jonathan a tentative smile, hoping that he doesn’t think him too forward.

“You would?” Jonathan asks, unsure about the nature of the offer. Truth be told, he could do with some rest. And, being alone in a compartment, Geoffrey and he at least won’t have to constantly worry about showing their intimacy too openly. He doesn’t even want to ponder the young man’s motives, half assuming, half hoping that it’s just a favour from one soldier to another.

“Sure, not a p-problem, Sir. I’ll come w-with, sh-show you the way.” He jumps on the train, explains to Geoffrey that some kind of mistake has been made and that he’s in the wrong compartment. Geoffrey gives him a confused look, then turns to the doctor, but before he can say anything, the train manager tells the young couple already sitting in that compartment that they’ll have the place to themselves, to which they reply with an excited giggle. He smiles at it, though it’s really not them he meant to do a favour.

“What was that about?” Geoffrey asks as soon as they’ve closed the door and the shutters in their compartment.

Jonathan shrugs. “I don’t really know. Help a fellow veteran?”

For a split second, Geoffrey feels a twinge of jealousy for not belonging, not having served, but then Jonathan gives him a soft smile.

“I know what you’re thinking, Geoffrey,” he says. “You may not have been to the war or fought in the trenches, but I don’t respect you any less because of it. Besides,” he adds very quietly, “I’m glad you didn’t have to witness that carnage.” He pulls Geoffrey in a close embrace, as if the thought of it suddenly reminded him how close he still came to losing his lover. Cupping the hunter’s strong neck with one hand and wrapping his other arm around him, Jonathan refuses to let him go for a long while, content to just hold him close and take in his scent, the feel of his unobtrusively cool skin, the strength hidden in his relaxed muscles. “I love you, Geoffrey,” he whispers almost inaudibly, but when Geoffrey shivers against him, pressing him even closer and gently kissing him on the crook of his neck, he knows that the hunter heard the words, and that he feels the same way about him.

* * *

The train manager keeps his word, reminding them with a quiet knock on the door that they’ve arrived in Edinburgh, where they get off the train and wait for the driver that Elisabeth has organised for them.

It’s still early morning, the sun hasn’t risen yet, but they’re still glad that the city is shrouded in a thick fog, and they’re even more relieved to find that the car that is to bring them to the castle has darkly tinted windows. Elisabeth hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that the driver was familiar with the needs of Ekons, as he offers them a bottle of warm blood – beef straight from the butcher’s, as he makes sure to point out – and cautions them with a friendly smile not to open the windows or doors at any time during the two-hour long drive ahead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Scotland - and it's time to pay Ascalon a visit soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently struggling quite a bit with this story, feeling I should come to an end but not really finding the energy to do so. Work is keeping me busy and I'm so tired I don't even know whether the new chapter is actually worth your time. I hope it is. As always, I greatly appreciate your feedback and recognition.
> 
> (Typos etc will be fixed eventually)
> 
> Note: I decided to make this the last chapter, at least for the moment, though I might eventually continue the story.

The castle is in even worse shape than Jonathan remembers it. When the car makes its way into the shaded courtyard and the driver, Ruairidh, lets them know it’s safe to leave the vehicle, Geoffrey groans at the sight that greets them.

“Christ, Jonathan, you weren’t bloody exaggerating when you said it’s a ruin!”

“It’s lots better inside,” Ruairidh grins as he unlocks a small door which is almost hidden behind shrubbery and beckons the two Ekons to enter. “I did a bit of cleanin’ and prepared a room for yous, as Lady Ashbury asked me to. The main building is in a bad shape, true, even dangerously so, I dare say, but this part here is quite cosy, actually.”

Geoffrey isn’t too impressed by what he sees: The room they’re standing in looks like a kitchen, though not one used recently. No wonder.

As if the driver noticed his discomfort, he points to another door at the back of the room, though he doesn’t move towards it. “That one there is a decent room, there’s a good fireplace and a nice bed, so I figured you might want to stay here rather than in the main building. Anyhow,” he turns to leave, “I ought to be goin’. If there’s anything you need, I live in the first cottage down the road. We’re, er, used to castle folk comin’ round at night, so don’t worry about that.” He gives the Ekons a wry smile. “I also got you some supplies from the butcher’s – if you need any more, just, well, let me know.” Lifting his cap as a greeting, he bolts out of the door before the Ekons can thank him.

“Weird fellow,” Jonathan hums, looking at the open door where the young man disappeared.

“I don’t care, he brought us here safe – and, really, I just want to sleep,” Geoffrey groans, turning to close and lock the door.

The room Ruairidh prepared is decent indeed. It isn’t very big, and there are no windows, though there is a cold draught coming from invisible nooks and crannies. Thankfully there’s already a fire in the large fireplace, which takes up almost the whole back wall, so it’s not really cold. The bed isn’t very big, but it looks and smells clean.

“You regret coming here?” Jonathan asks quietly, putting a hand on the hunter’s back.

“No, I don’t. The place doesn’t seem all that bad after all. Besides,” Geoffrey turns around, giving the other Ekon a mischievous smile, “I’m not here to admire the castle.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It seems like the perfect place to learn how to do all that leechy stuff,” Geoffrey says with barely concealed excitement in his voice. “And,” he continues, having expected the shade of disappointment crossing Jonathan’s face, “I think we’ll finally have some peace.” He leans in, brushing his lips against Jonathan’s before gently grabbing the other Ekon by the neck and deepening the kiss. He longingly rubs his tongue against Jonathan’s, exploring the wet warmth and feeling the sharp tips of his fangs until the taste of his blood explodes in both their mouths.

Jonathan growls as he sucks hard on Geoffrey’s tongue to get more of the delicious taste, pulling the hunter closer and moving against his body.

“I’d love to do this all night and day,” Jonathan whispers hoarsely as they break the kiss.

“I wish you would,” Geoffrey replies in an equally husky voice. “I do feel the sun, though, so maybe we should get some sleep instead? And maybe get the worst grime of the train ride off?”

Jonathan gives him a soft smile and nods. He begins to undress, while Geoffrey goes to the kitchen for a basin and water.

“Sorry, the water is ice cold,” he says when he comes back and sets the basin down on the floor.

“Not a problem for a leech,” Jonathan shrugs. Cold water doesn’t faze him one bit, although he does find it much more pleasant to wash with warm water.

“Good.” Geoffrey looks at him for a second. “Come here then.” They are both too tired to not get a few hours of sleep before nightfall, but it _is_ the first time they don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on them, and the hunter aches for some tenderness.

“When did you become so caring?” Jonathan asks when the other Ekon carefully wipes his face and neck with the damp cloth.

Geoffrey shrugs. “You mind?”

Jonathan shakes his head. He enjoys it very much, but it makes him wonder nonetheless. From the first time he met him, he felt there was more to the gruff Irishman, but Geoffrey’s gentle side still sometimes takes him by surprise.

“You make a face like you actually do mind, Jonathan,” Geoffrey says with a wary look, taking a step backwards.

“No, I don’t,” Jonathan softly replies, “I just thought about how much I like it when you’re not a bastard.” He grins cheekily. “Truth be told, I still find it hard to believe we… we got here, y’know?”

“You mean from fighting in the attic? Yeah, you’re right.” Geoffrey nods as he continues his ministrations. “There, all clean,” he says when he’s done, giving Jonathan a smack on the buttocks. “Now make sure not to fall asleep while you wait in bed.”

“What makes you think I’ll wait in bed?” Jonathan asks, moving in to unbutton Geoffrey’s shirt and suck a bruising kiss on his neck. “Give me that,” he mumbles, taking the cloth from the hunter’s hand, “it’s my turn.” He’s just as gentle and efficient, himself nearly falling asleep standing, so as soon as he’s done, he drags Geoffrey to the bed. Pulling back the blanket, he pushes the hunter down on the mattress. “I’ve missed that,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around the other Ekon.

“Me too,” Geoffrey smiles. He quietly enjoys the fact that Jonathan’s body doesn’t feel all that cold anymore, now that his own is no longer warm. He moves closer to the other Ekon and lazily kisses him on the mouth.

Jonathan responds with a soft moan, invitingly parting his lips. He likes the hunter’s rough palms on his face, running through his hair, the stubble of his beard, the sharp tips of his fangs grazing his lips. Geoffrey’s languid caresses make him wonder about the strange turn of events some more, though it takes less than a minute until sleep claims him.

* * *

“There’s no point in this if you fight like _that_!” Geoffrey groans.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan replies, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ascalon won’t do me the same courtesy, Jonathan, so you shouldn’t either, not if you want to teach me how to fight them.”

“Geoffrey, I-“

“Just pretend I’m one of them – fight me like you’d fight Pembleton.”

Jonathan hesitates. He doesn’t think this is a good idea. “It’ll hurt.”

“Doesn’t matter, you won’t break me.”

Jonathan sighs, then he unbuttons his shirt and takes it off.

“Jonathan, what are you-“

“I can’t buy a new set of clothes every time we fight,” Jonathan grumbles. “You said not to spare you, so I won’t.” He gives Geoffrey a challenging look, knowing any hope that the other Ekon will change his mind is entirely futile.

“All right,” Geoffrey grins as he takes off his own shirt. “That’s more like it.” His smile quickly vanishes when Jonathan bares his fangs, growling, and he watches in astonishment as the doctor’s face hardens, a dangerous glint in his eyes. It takes him by surprise when Jonathan attacks him from a cloud of black smoke, claws slashing across his chest. He heals quickly, but still, it hurts. “Damn!” he hisses, trying to follow the other’s movements. Claws rip open his back before he can, though, and he suddenly realises how much Jonathan was holding back even when he’d fought for his life in the attic.

And Jonathan doesn’t hold back, now, knowing that the hunter is probably right about training for Ascalon. Geoffrey, being the experienced hunter he is, is learning quickly, though he’s still no match for the other Ekon. Jonathan eventually pins him to the ground, his mouth on Geoffrey’s neck, fangs exposed. Geoffrey growls in frustration and tries to free himself, but his struggles only cause Jonathan’s teeth to dig into the soft flesh of his throat. “I win,” he softly whispers when he’s done licking off the drops of blood from the tiny wounds on Geoffrey’s throat.

The hunter lets out a frustrated groan and he’s just about to start complaining when Jonathan holds his wrist to the hunter’s mouth.

“Here, drink. You lost quite some blood.” He winces as Geoffrey bites his arm, a bit less carefully than he usually does. “You did well, hunter,” Jonathan says, not even trying to hide the admiration in his voice. “You are a dangerous man… I’m glad you’re on my side now.”

“You still haven’t shown me how to use blood as a weapon,” Geoffrey says in a half-annoyed tone, letting go of Jonathan’s wrist and turning around to face him. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad that Reid’s face is no longer that of a predator. “You really didn’t go easy on me, leech,” he spits, but there’s no venom in his voice.

“You asked me to, didn’t you. _Leech_.” Jonathan gives him a wry smile. “I will teach you about the blood stuff, but not tonight. Let’s go get cleaned up.” He gets up and offers Geoffrey a hand. “I’ve had enough fighting for tonight,” he admits.

“Aye, so have I. Let’s go down to the lake for a swim.” Before Jonathan can answer, Geoffrey pulls him along.

While they have no problems seeing in the dark either way, the moon is so bright it feels almost like daytime. Silently, they walk down the small path leading down to the lake. Somewhere off in the direction of the village a dog is barking, but apart from that it’s peacefully quiet. It smells of Juniper and damp grass.

When they reach the water, Geoffrey sits down on a rock to take off his shoes.

“You’re not really planning to take a swim, are you?” Jonathan asks, suddenly uncomfortable. “The water… seems quite cold.”

“And?” Geoffrey takes off his clothes, waiting for Jonathan to follow suit. “Come on, Reid, it’s not like we’ll catch a cold and die of pneumonia.” Studying the other Ekon’s face, he suddenly bursts into laughter. “You can’t swim, is that it?”

Jonathan shrugs, somewhat embarrassed. “I grew up in the city, where was I s’posed to learn it? My parents never thought it a useful skill – let alone an appropriate one,” he says defensively.

“Should’ve guessed,” Geoffrey grins. “Well, that, at least, is something I can teach you. Come on now.” He leaves Jonathan to undress, waiting for him in the water. It is cold, indeed, but he doesn’t mind. Taking the other Ekon’s hand, he leads Jonathan into deeper water. “You trust me, don’t you?” he asks quietly.

Jonathan nods, then lets Geoffrey pull him further into the lake until his feet no longer touch the ground. For a split second he wants to struggle, get out of the water, but then he just lets the hunter take over, feeling safe in his grasp.

“Just lie back,” Geoffrey says, steading him. “Relax, hold out your arms.”

Jonathan does as he’s told, and once he opens his eyes, no longer fearing the water closing over his face, his breath is stuck in his throat. Above him, the starry sky stretches into an endless dark blue. With his ears being underwater, he can only hear his own heartbeat, and even though it feels disconcertingly sluggish, he suddenly realises that he’s never felt so alive, not even before he was turned. For a long time, he can’t tear his gaze from the sky, feeling weightless as he’s carried by the water. Small ripples of waves caused by Geoffrey swimming close to him lap against his skin. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers.

Geoffrey hums in affirmation, then he gently grabs Jonathan under the arms and pulls him towards the shore until their feet find solid ground again. “That, Johnny, is called a dead man’s float. Oddly fitting, don’t you think?” he grins. “Teach me some leechy stuff tomorrow, and I’ll teach you to swim properly. Do you want to go back?” he asks after a short pause.

“Yes, let’s.”

Back in their room in the castle, Geoffrey puts a few logs on the embers in the fireplace. They didn’t bother to get dressed after the swim, and when Geoffrey steps behind Jonathan, he still feels the water’s cold radiating from his body. “Come to bed with me,” he says in a low voice.

Jonathan won’t have him beg. Not tonight. Not when he feels strangely elated after the fight and the swim. Not when he feels the blood pooling in his crotch at the sight of Geoffrey standing next to the fire. In the flickering light of the flames, the hunter’s body seems to glow, particularly with the trails of water from his still wet hair. Jonathan licks his lips, then he steps closer. “C’m ‘ere,” he says in a husky voice, before pulling the hunter into a deep kiss.

As their tongues rub against each other and their fangs accidentally draw blood, Geoffrey moans into his mouth. His hard dick pushes against Jonathan’s hip in a pleasant and _very_ arousing way.

“I really want you,” Geoffrey groans huskily, then he kneels down and reaches for Jonathan’s penis to run his tongue along the shaft, tracing the bulging, dark veins. Jonathan’s wet already, he moans quietly, biting his lower lip, and squirms to get more of Geoffrey’s touch. He’s already close to coming when Geoffrey gets back up and drags him towards the bed. “I want you,” he repeats, voice barely above a whisper, as he lies down, spreading his legs for Jonathan.

“You really want this?” the other Ekon asks. When Geoffrey nods, he gently turns him around to lie on his stomach. Jonathan knows it’ll probably hurt, so he doesn’t want to rush things and instead takes his time preparing his lover.

It feels like hours to Geoffrey until Jonathan finally positions himself between his legs, gingerly pushing against him, then entering him slowly. It feels strange, and oddly and unpleasantly filling at first, but it hurts less than he’d expected, and when Jonathan bends down to kiss him, the pain slowly subsides, making way for a new sensation that has him catch his breath. Working himself with one hand, the other on Jonathan’s neck, he watches Jonathan’s cock disappear between his legs, his movements becoming less and less restrained until he loses all rhythm. A low growl escapes his chest, more animal than man, and his brow furrows as the growl turns into a hoarse cry when he comes hard inside Geoffrey. The sight is all it takes for the hunter to trip over the edge, spurting cum over his belly and chest, cursing loudly and screaming Jonathan’s name.

Jonathan all but collapses on the hunter, so shaky from the toe-curling orgasm that it takes him a moment before he can move and pull out of Geoffrey. They’re unable to speak, panting hard and gazing into each other’s eyes, until the hunter reaches out to pull Jonathan against him. He doesn’t kiss him, though, but wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace instead. “What you said on the train,” he softly murmurs, “you really meant that, didn’t you.”

Jonathan nods almost imperceptibly.

“I love you, too,” Geoffrey whispers. Jonathan feels so right in his arms, as if he was always meant to be there, and it’s not the first time that the hunter silently praises the other Ekon’s stubbornness. “And now let’s get this sticky stuff off before we make a complete mess of the bed,” he grins.

“Don’t think I can get up,” Jonathan mumbles. He’s still shaky.

“All right, hang on then,” Geoffrey says, getting up to fetch some water. He cleans Jonathan before he washes himself, then he hands Jonathan a pair of clean pants, knowing the other man hates sleeping completely naked just as much as he does. “We should do that again some time,” he says softly when he lies down next to Jonathan and pulls up the blanket.

“I didn’t hurt you too badly?” Jonathan asks. “I- I wasn’t really able to hold back, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Johnny. I told you before, you can’t break me. And I did like it. A lot.” Geoffrey gives him a mischievous grin and he gently strokes Jonathan’s still glowing cheek.

“In that case, we really should.”

* * *

“Are you ready for this?” Jonathan asks. They can still turn back – not that he really wants to, though.

“I am,” Geoffrey replies quietly, grabbing the hilt of his sword. He looks back. The street looks deserted, and no light illuminates the windows of the houses nearby. It’s eerily quiet, too. Still, he knows that his boys are waiting nearby and won’t hesitate to follow him – and Jonathan – should things go awry.

Jonathan nods, then he knocks.

“Pembleton!” he shouts. “Open up, I’ve got something for you!”


End file.
